Let Me Own You
by Lady Of Cythera
Summary: 'Before she had time to react, I shook my head, pressing my finger to her open mouth, "You're not in charge anymore." I could see the heavy desire in the green of her eyes as they widened. If she wasn't turned on before, she definitely was now.' The story between an austere club-owner and a new guest. A game of dominance and pleasure.
1. Pale Green Stare

**A/N: I wrote this as a dirty Clexa one-shot because it flowed better that way. I'm still in two minds as to whether I'll continue it as a story or not. But, please read and enjoy…**

"She's totally looking at me."

 _Christ, if he says that one more time, I'm going to –_

"Seriously. You can't see it? She can't get enough."

"Bellamy, Jesus, you're an ass at the best of times. Please don't demote yourself to a dick just because you're drunk."

It seemed Octavia beat me to it. Instead of his sister's comment deterring his behaviour, however, it simply exacerbated it, "Look, O… I'd prefer to be a dick than an ass any day. It's way more exciting. Wouldn't you agree, Lincoln?" He smirked, before his expression fell, "In fact… don't answer that. I don't want to know what excitement your dick has…"

Octavia, it seemed, had just about had enough of her brother's drunk ass. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her boyfriend's arm, pulling him into the crowd.

"Seriously?" I muttered, "You're leaving me alone with _this_?" I indicated bluntly to the intoxicated young man staring dopily into the VIP area of the club. My complaint was to of no avail as Octavia and her counterpart had already disappeared.

 _Oh, joy_.

"For god's sake." I couldn't refrain from subjecting Bellamy to a dramatic eye roll, only to find it seemed to amuse him all the more.

His smirk returned and he leaned forwards to ruffle my hair playfully, "What's the matter, Princess? Getting jealous or something?"

"Of the other girl supposedly giving you the eyes? Definitely. Because she's somewhere over there out of your perverted reach." I shoved at his chest lightly, barely budging him a centimetre, "What's so special about her anyway? Which one is she?" I craned my neck, failing to follow his gaze to the target of his attention due to the number of broad backed bouncers blocking off the entrance.

"Oh, not your type." He teased, running his fingers through his tangle of black hair.

"No? And how do you know what my type is, jackass?" I couldn't help but laugh, still trying to get a glimpse of the girl.

"You like tall, handsome, dark-haired strangers shrouded in mystery. Men like me, obviously." He rested an elbow on my shoulder, offering me a mock-patronising smile. This was the treatment I was used to from Bellamy. He was like an older brother to me. God no, wait. Scratch that. He was far too inappropriately flirtatious to be considered in that category.

"Oh, honey, you and I both know I'm renouncing men for now. Even the tall, handsome, dark-haired ones." In fact… _especially_ those.

"You mean ever since you fucked Finn Collins and then found out he had a long-term girlfriend?"

"I'm over that." I fibbed, "Boys are just too much trouble."

Bellamy shrugged, "Hell yeah we are."

I wasn't sure I could pinpoint the first time I met the Blakes; Bellamy and his sister Octavia. I assumed it was as a teen. We ran in the same circle of friends and went to the same parties. I'd known about them both – he had never been on my list of liked people, but I'd always gotten along well enough with Octavia (when she wasn't busy being a spitfire). I'd never been a fan of Bellamy; in fact I was pretty sure I'd despised him at first. Arrogant, self-centred, roguish. The exact material needed to be a ring-leader of a group of irresponsible teens. Maybe that's why we clashed.

I was definitely arrogant and self-ascertained myself.

We'd ended up accidentally enjoying each other's company and found ourselves caught in the brief limbo of: are we just friends, or are we more?

But the longer we left it, the vague chemistry we'd had neutralised and left us as comfortable friends. Now the thought of anything more than that put me off. To be honest, we both preferred it that way.

"God, Bel, this is killing me. Just get over there if she's showing she's interested." I sighed, "You're like a lost puppy."

"Clarke…" He began, turning his eyes in my direction briefly, "…do you have any idea how long it took me to bag us tickets to get here? I'm not about to get chucked out by approaching the VIP section. Do you know how strict they are with that shit?"

"You mean how long it took you to persuade Lincoln to get us on the guest list?" I smirked.

He just gave a low laugh before he reached into his pocket, "Do you want to see Charlie?"

I knew immediately he was referring to the cocaine in his jeans. I chewed on my lip for a moment, trying to talk myself out of it, "I shouldn't. You know they do random drug checks at work."

"But you will. You always do." Bellamy had already seen my hesitation, and had pulled me against him, surreptitiously sliding the packet of powder into the hand I had trapped between our stomachs, "If you get caught, don't mention my name." He laughed quietly.

"I will." I grinned, curling my hand around the packet and holding it subtly by my side, "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll see you in a minute."

Automatically, I glanced to my VIP lounge as I walked towards the bathroom.

That was when I saw her.

 _Fuck_.

It wasn't the most eloquent of words I could've chosen, but it was the only one left in my vocabulary once my eyes landed on hers.

She was, in a word, striking.

Maybe that didn't even cover it.

I wasn't sure there was a singular word that _did_ cover it.

She possessed an unmistakable presence about her – despite the fact she was simply sitting at a table, a glass of wine held deftly in her fingertips.

It was hard to tell whether she knew I was ogling. But despite the distance, I could see the piercing green of her intense gaze and the way it bit into me. It contrasted startlingly with her dark eye makeup and olive skin. Her burnished brown hair was pulled back over her shoulders, a few locks braided together. She couldn't have been much older than me, if at all, and I was just shy of 21.

No wonder Bellamy couldn't look away.

With one simple stare, she had left me feeling completely exposed.

I stumbled for a moment, accidentally knocking into somebody.

"Shit." I muttered, feeling the packet slip from my fingers. I reached down, quickly trying to retrieve it, praying nobody had noticed.

Once it was safely returned to my hold, I ducked out of the crowds, my heart thudding wildly behind my sternum.

I couldn't work out whether that physiological response was due to almost losing the cocaine, or because of the unexpected eye contact I'd made with the girl Bellamy had been pining about all goddamn evening.

I pushed the cubicle door closed behind me and tipped the white powder out onto the ridge of my house key. I knew I was making a mistake doing this.

I'd been planning on quitting the use of recreational drugs ever since I'd started working at my mother's hospital. The party lifestyle I'd led as a teen had gotten me into far too much trouble, so why was I still doing this? Especially considering what I could lose if I got caught.

I sat on the closed toilet lid, telling myself not to think too deeply about what I was doing to avoid the self-disgust I would imminently feel.

I hated doing it.

But I did it anyway.

There was a time a few years ago I would've refused to do anything too outrageous. Even when partying. Hence why my friends tended to call me 'Princess'. Yet, even now, the name had stuck. Along with other bad habits.

Moments later, I slid the key back into my bag, tossing the empty packet into the sanitary waste bin. Once the familiar feeling of my head detaching itself from the rest of my body set in, I opened the cubicle door and swayed from the room. Before I could stop myself, my eyes had drifted back over to the VIP lounge, but she'd gone.

Bellamy would be devastated, of course. Unless he'd finally found the balls to approach her and that was the reason of her absence…

Alas, my eyes landed on the crestfallen expression of my friend and his sister (who was in absolutely no way trying to console him).

"It was definitely meant to be… I could feel the fates smiling down on me!" Bellamy was explaining theatrically, much to Lincoln's amusement.

"I highly doubt that." He informed him.

Bellamy creased his eyebrows, "Way to kill my mood, man. She was definitely looking at me."

Lincoln just shrugged, a smirk on his lips as he condescendingly responded, "Babe, you're gorgeous. Nobody's disputing that. But she wasn't staring at you."

"Oh no? What makes you say that?"

Lincoln gestured to me before folding his arms over his broad chest, "She was staring at Clarke."

At the mention of my name, I became instantly attuned to the conversation.

"Yeah, right." Bellamy rolled his eyes, as Lincoln pulled on his arm with raised eyebrows.

"You don't believe me?" He pointed up to the balcony above the dancefloor, "She doesn't dig the dick."

I let my eyes travel with Bellamy's to the higher tier of the VIP lounge and caught myself mid-breath.

The girl with the pale green gaze was currently leaning forwards against the railing, permitting some pretty little blonde thing to run her fingers up and down her bare arm. The blonde chick was moving in close to her, whispering into her ear.

But it seemed the brunette was utterly unaffected.

Her eyes were fixed elsewhere.

On me.

"See?" Lincoln teased.

Bellamy groaned, "For god's sake, Princess. Why do you always get the hot ones?"

I would've responded to his comment, but I was otherwise engaged in setting my jaw and angling my body in the girl's direction. I couldn't figure out whether she was looking at me out of interest, or simply because she wanted to coerce me.

The steeliness of her glare made it pretty difficult to tell.

Either way, I wasn't about to let her think she had the upper-hand just because she was in the VIP section and had girls upon girls hanging out nearby like she was some pimp. Maybe it was my liquid confidence, or just my outright stubborn nature, but I handed her stare straight back to her. My directness seemed to catch her attention, and I noticed her eyebrows raise mildly.

"Clarke… _Clarke_." Lincoln's voice brought me back to the dancefloor, "Careful."

"Careful? With what? Just because she thinks she owns the VIP lounge, it doesn't mean I'm going to let her try intimidate me."

This amused Octavia's boyfriend further, and he gave a soft laugh, "Clarke, she doesn't just own the VIP lounge… She owns the entire club."

This threw me. Naturally.

I blinked and turned to look at him, "Come again?"

My reaction was met with entertained laughter, "Does she intimidate you now?" Octavia asked, bumping my hip with hers.

"Not at all." I muttered.

Maybe it was a tiny white lie.

I let my eyes drift back over to the club-owner, watching the way she had turned to address the blonde growth beside her, her hand resting lightly on the girl's waist. It was a subtle gesture – one that showed no promise of affection, but didn't deny the blonde of receiving the attention she had been craving (presumably all night). She pouted at the brunette's words, but turned away to join the rest of the girls at the table.

"I smell fear." Bellamy jibed, standing on the other side of me to Octavia, dropping his elbow on my shoulder.

"Is that your new cologne?" I asked, sarcastically.

He ignored my remark with a grin, "It seems Princess has finally met her match."

"Oh, fuck off, Bel. You're just jealous it's me she's eyeing up." I smirked, glancing up to him.

"Well, if you get the chance to ask her… see if she likes threesomes. I'd be happy to consent to that."

I shuddered visibly, knocking his elbow off my shoulder, "If I was to have a threesome, Bellamy Blake, it would not be with her… and it would certainly not be with you." I flicked the tip of his nose and turned away from the balcony.

Octavia, on the other hand, was busy gagging at her brother's words, "Jesus, Bel. Can you not?"

Bellamy ignored her and laughed, sipping his drink, "You'd really turn her down?" He asked.

I took his glass from his hand and downed the rest of the content, "Like she'd even ask…"

"You mean, she'd just demand you?" He tilted his head to the side and I could practically see the array of scenes he was playing out in his head, "Damn, that's hot."

"That's _not_ what I meant, idiot. I meant she looks like the sort that just wait for people to come crawling to her. That is not who I am, thank you very much."

Lincoln's eyes had drifted to a tall bearded figure who was currently approaching us, and it became quickly clear he wasn't here to party.

He was dressed in full black, his bouncer ID strapped around his bicep. I made to get out of his way so he could sift through our group, but he stopped right in front of me, "You've been asked to join the VIP lounge."

His words barely registered.

"What?" I asked numbly.

"Don't make me repeat myself. You've been requested to join the VIP lounge. Quickly, before shechanges her mind." The bouncer folded his arms over his thick-muscled chest. He looked like he'd recently digested 20 barrels of protein powder.

"Requested?" I raised my eyebrows, unable to stop myself from bristling at his words, "I'm good thanks."

The bouncer evidently wasn't used to being denied. He raised his eyebrows and took a step forwards, "Do you want to get kicked out?"

Lincoln stiffened beside me – well, nobody told me this club was so shady! I wasn't about to let myself be loaned out like I was an item.

"If the alternative is getting forced to go somewhere I don't want to go without my friends."

Who the fuck did this club-owner think she was? She had more arrogance than both Bellamy and I put together.

"Your friends… no." He didn't even spare them a glance, "She's asked for _you_."

"Tell her I politely decline." I muttered, sidling past him, "And that if she wants _me_ then _she_ can come and get me herself."

"Do you want escorting out?" He growled. I knew I shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't stop myself flashing him the middle finger as I headed towards the exit.

"No, I can walk, thank you."

Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I should have been flattered. But if she'd wanted to talk to me, she could've come down off her pedestal and spoken to me herself.

I was pretty sure I'd get an earful from the others, but I didn't care. I wasn't an object.

Once the fresh air hit my chest, I pulled out a cigarette and placed it between my lips. Another bad habit I was planning on quitting.

"Hey, Clarke."

I turned, seeing Octavia standing behind me.

"You don't have to come with me. Stay with the others and enjoy the rest of your night." I knew Octavia hated cutting her evenings short.

She shook her head, "No. It's not worth it. It's all just wankers in there anyway. Are you okay?"

I nodded, feeling calmer once I'd taken a few deep breaths and let the nicotine ease my mood, "Yeah. I know I was just being contrary… but it's like… Just because I've paid entry into her club, it doesn't mean she can summon me as she pleases."

"I know. She probably thought it was a compliment or something."

"As flattering as it was to have a large bearded brute demand my presence in the VIP lounge, I just had to refuse – no matter how painful it was." I couldn't help but snort to myself at the incredulity of what had just happened, and that was all it took for Octavia to giggle as I placed my hand theatrically over my chest to feign the heartbreak.

"Come on. Let's go somewhere else." Bellamy had emerged out of the exit, followed closely by Lincoln, "You should have seen her face, Princess. It's like she'd never been told 'no' in her life."

I struggled to believe she'd let any kind of emotion betray her expression, but it made me feel better all the same.

…

…

It wasn't a regular occurrence for me to show up at my own clubs. I did every now and again just for the sake of showing my face.

I'd already gone through the custom greetings with those I knew, deciding who could stay in the lounge and those who I wanted to leave.

"Are you having a drink?"

I turned to the girl currently heaving her breasts in my general direction, twirling a lock of pale blonde hair around her finger. I gave her a brief once-over and shrugged. _Surprise me_.

"It's been a while since you last came here, right?" She asked, paying for a bottle of wine at the bar and setting it down on the glass table by my hip. I just inclined my head and sat down, letting her pour me a glass. In truth, I couldn't remember whether I'd met her before or not.

I was used to this sort of behaviour elicited by other females – and males alike, although the latter species quickly discovered I wasn't interested in their offerings. The girls who dared speak to me first usually became flustered when I actually replied, so I'd rapidly learned not to open my mouth. Let them make whatever they wanted of the situation.

It was all the same to me.

I let my eyes graze along the floor of the club, recognising a few regulars. Mostly, the club was filled with testosterone pumped men and women in slutty dresses.

It wasn't that I didn't enjoy admiring the bare skin from where I sat – it was just too common for it to be exciting to me anymore.

I knew that for some people, getting into the club was a big deal for them. You had to know somebody who had been coming a while before you could get your name put on the guest list. That sort of atmosphere made everybody act either over-confident, or utterly unsure of themselves.

There was nothing new tonight.

Not until a group of people I hadn't seen before fell into the room, already buzzing off their own vibes. I recognised perhaps one of them. The tall dark-skinned male. He'd been here before. The others in the group were cautious to begin with – aside from the blonde in the white floaty dress.

She walked with natural confidence, already gelling effortlessly with the other members of the crowd. Which wasn't exactly an easy task. She caught a few eyes and offered playful smiles to people she'd never met. Already, I could tell she was new to this sort of scene, and if she recognised the unspoken rules of the club, she didn't seem to care about them.

I wondered how long it would take before she got kicked out for having too much fun…

While her male friends waited at the bar, she stumbled into a group of girls and clapped a hand over her mouth, offering her apologies.

Newcomers got punched in this club for less.

But somehow, she'd managed to freely strike up conversation, resting a hand on one girl's hip as she leaned closer to say something quietly in her ear. Whatever it was she said, it got a good reception. I was almost certain the girl had blushed, her own hand resting atop the blonde's. She parted ways with the group of girls, offering the one she'd interacted with the most a small wink.

Watching her at first was a game; waiting to see how long it took before she rubbed somebody up the wrong way. But the longer I let my eyes follow her, the more she intrigued me. She was unconventional, and she pulled it off well. She passed the time by dancing with her female friend, and occasionally breaking away from her to run her fingers down a man's chest, or to smile coyly at another girl.

Interesting.

When her friends had returned she was blocked from my view, and I allowed myself some input into the conversation occurring at the table, picking up my glass of wine and swilling the contents around the edges lightly.

Once I'd taken a sip, I let my eyes drift back to the floor, seeing the tearaway weave her way in and out of the crowd as she made her way towards the bathroom. But this time, she saw me.

The blue hues of her eyes landed directly on my stare, and widened. It seemed she hadn't been paying attention to where she was walking while she was busy trying to make sense of me – I could see the collision happen before it did.

This time, she made no attempt to sweet talk her way out of confrontation, and instead crouched down to pick something up before she hurried off into the bathroom.

 _Curiouser and curiouser…_

I took another sip of wine and lazily placed it back down on the table top, standing up to stretch my legs. Now she'd seen me watching her, I felt my game wouldn't be as exciting. I'd thrown her off-guard… and for some reason, it turned me on.

I made my way up the stairs to the balcony where it was a little less populated by people trying to state their superiority to everybody else. Except me. When they addressed me, it was to impress me.

I quickly tired of that sort of behaviour.

I leaned forwards, resting my elbows on the railing of the balcony, hearing the blonde piece who had bought me wine speak.

I didn't mind the attention so long as it didn't require any kind of effort on my part.

"I've heard things about you…" She was murmuring, reaching forwards and running her fingers over my shoulder. I said nothing but waited for her to continue, "…I've heard about the way you fuck."

I internally rolled my eyes; wonderful. Another girl avoiding the use of any kind of intelligence to gain my interest.

The girl in the white dress had emerged from the bathroom, her head turning back towards the place I was sitting last. I _almost_ smirked.

She had returned to her group and was talking with her friends, once again animated in the conversation.

But… judging by the way they kept stealing glances in my direction, I assumed I was the topic. Nothing I wasn't used to.

"I'd like to see it for myself." The girl trailing her hand over my skin had moved closer to my body, but I disregarded her comment, watching the way the blonde on the dancefloor had moved to face me, her eyes meeting mine fiercely.

The man I'd seen before shifted uncomfortably and leaned over to murmur something to her, presumably to explain who I was. The expression on her face after that was almost amusing. I sighed, sensing the girl hanging onto my side was beginning to feel rejected by my silence. I turned, allowing my fingers to brush her waist lightly, "I'm not looking for that tonight." _Not from you_ , "Go. Enjoy yourself."

I doubted that's what she expected to hear, and she sent me a chagrined frown, but consented and moved away to join the other girls.

"Somebody caught your attention?"

I glanced over to Gustus, the bouncer in charge, standing in the corner of the balcony a few steps away from me, "The blonde. On the dancefloor." I shrugged.

"Do you want me to fetch her?" He asked, his eyes following my gaze.

Once again, I shrugged, "You can ask her. But I'm not sure she'd want to join me."

Gustus scoffed, "And since when has anybody ever said no to you?"

This was a valid question. "Never."

 _But something told me this girl might._

Gustus had bowed his head and strode down onto the ground floor, parting the crowds like he was Moses, and stopping in front of the blonde girl.

Perhaps it was a bad idea to agree to this. Gustus wasn't the most softly spoken of men.

Well… maybe that was an understatement.

He had about as much tact in him as my little toe.

But he was a myrmidon. _My_ myrmidon.

The scene unfurled in a way that even I hadn't predicted, and ended with the blonde tearaway flipping Gustus the rod. It was a good job she was slight enough to lose herself in the crowd before leaving, or I was pretty certain he would've slung her over his shoulder and dragged her outside himself.

Disgruntled, he shoved his way back through the clubbers and found himself back at my side.

"She, uh… politely declined." He said carefully.

"Yes, I saw that. What did you say to cause that kind of reaction?" I raised an eyebrow, fully expecting the worst.

Gustus explained the extent of their conversation – in diluted words. He was a deeply misunderstood character; I'd known he'd only meant well for me, but the blonde in the white dress had evidently rejected any kind of force he'd suggested.

I knew that she hadn't turned down the offer because she wasn't interested in me. She'd turned down the offer because it was Gustus who'd offered it on my behalf.

It was entertaining for me… simply because, in her position, I would've done the exact same.

…

…

I was presently halfway through an internal debate as to whether I wanted to stick out the rest of the night, or just go home. I flicked the crumbling ash from the end of my cigarette and pressed it back to my lips for a final drag.

I saw the faces of my friends before I realised what (or _who_ ) they were looking at.

Initially I wondered what could have caused their mouths to gape open as I tossed the butt of my cigarette to the floor.

Until I felt a cool hand slide into mine.

Holy shit.

Before I could respond, I was being pulled back inside.

My reactions hadn't caught up with the rest of me until I found myself standing in the VIP lounge, face to face with the club-owner.

"Wha– how dare you?" I exclaimed, tearing my hand from hers, only to discover she was staring at me intently, unperturbed at my outburst.

"Was this what you meant when you told my bouncer to come get you myself?" She arched a single eyebrow, her expression remaining steady.

In my building fury, I struggled to formulate an appropriately witty reply and just let my lips part, affronted. It wasn't helping that her features were all the more striking from such a close distance. She didn't seem to mind waiting for me to speak, the power of her presence and the beat of the music knocking away the edge of the silence.

She had evidently taken my words literally, and I suppose it was intentional. She was making a statement the same way I did. She wasn't afraid of chasing things she wanted.

Although I was surprised she considered me worth the bother.

After a moment, I took a step closer, "So, what do you want?"

I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her to tell me outright.

I waited, crossing my arms beneath my breast.

 _Tell me_.

She let her eyes run me up and down, the hint of a small smirk pulling at one corner of her lips, "Isn't it obvious? I want you."

She'd said the words with such certainty, I'd forgotten I was supposed to be angry with her.

"What?" I murmured, quietly. All hints of mockery had drained from her features as she spoke the words, her voice like a river running over smooth stones.

"I said: I want you." She repeated, barely betraying a glimpse of vulnerability at making such a direct statement not just once. But twice.

It took me a moment to recover from her proclamation, but eventually I recalled myself and creased my eyebrows, "You're aware I'm not here to whore myself out, right?"

"If I thought that, I'd be offering you money."

Her pale gaze was wearing me down. Fast.

"So, what _are_ you offering, hm?" I was a little pissed off at myself for even bothering to humour her.

"Tell me your name."

 _Sure, just outright ignore my question._

It was a reasonable demand though, considering the situation.

"Clarke." I muttered, caught in a state of uncertainty; for a start, I wasn't sure why I was still bothering to engage in conversation, but something about her kept me rooted to the floor.

"Well, Clarke…" She began, taking a deliberate step forwards, tightening the distance between us. "…I could offer you a screaming orgasm."

 _Jesus._

She was testing my limits, trying to catch me off-guard. Saying things for the effect.

I took a slow breath inwards, discounting the narrowing of my windpipe.

I doubted I'd ever met somebody this intense. She wasn't scared of being rejected – probably because until me, she hadn't been told 'no'.

"And what would be in it for you?"

Her lips twitched as though she could've been about to smirk, but stopped herself short, "That depends on what _you're_ offering, Clarke."

Finn Collins had been my last. Maybe it was time to forget about him. But the stubborn part of me couldn't relent that easily.

"I'm going to offer you a taste. I'm not going to fuck you. You don't get that from me tonight."

I severely questioned my own intelligence.

What the hell was I doing?

She waited for me to continue, her unblinking eyes never straying from mine, even as the blonde chick she was entertaining beforehand tried to catch her attention as she walked past.

"You're going to dance with me. Not here. On the floor. Right where people can see."

This was the real test; if she wanted me, she had to be willing to sacrifice something first.

"Compromise… The underground floor. That's where we dance."

I hadn't been aware there was an underground level – it was probably VIP too…

When I didn't protest, she let her hand find mine once again, linking our fingers together gently. She turned, leading me to the stairs. I followed out of curiosity. And intrigue.

And because I was slightly turned on.

This didn't have to mean anything.

I was doing this purely for selfish purposes…

The underground level was shaped like a halfpipe, fog from the smoke machines preventing me from seeing the end of the room; I had no idea how long the tunnel stretched, or how many people were in it. All I knew was that it was pretty goddamn packed out.

"Drink?" She asked, resting her elbow on the bar, her other hand still clasped in mine.

"Surprise me."

She surveyed me for a moment before turning to the bartender, the sound of the heavy bass making it difficult to hear what she ordered.

The final product was pushed over the marble surface towards me in a martini glass. I picked it up and took a cautious sip; it was refreshingly tangy, but sweet. All at the same time.

I hated to admit it, but it tasted good.

"You like it?" She asked, raising her own to her lips.

I shrugged a shoulder, "It'll do."

"You like it." She clarified, once again moving us through the crowds to the centre of the dancefloor.

I ran my tongue over my lips to taste the residue and rolled my eyes, "Fine. I like it." I conceded.

Her fingers released mine, but she took a step closer to once again create an inflexibly small space between our bodies, "Good. It's my new recipe. I'm trialling it."

"Your recipe?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow as her eyes shifted from her drink to meet mine.

She inclined her head, finishing off the contents and handing both our empty glasses over to a passing waiter.

"A woman of many talents, clearly." I smirked, noticing the transition of songs and finding my body automatically swaying to the rhythm.

She seemed unaffected by my comment and simply moved both hands to my hips, "Tell me about you, Clarke."

My fingers ran over her forearm and curled around her elbow, my eyes dropping to examine the ink enveloping her upper arm, "There's not a lot to tell."

I could feel the potency of the alcohol revive my mood, and I couldn't help but gravitate closer to her body as she held my gaze, "Liar." She said simply, "Tell me what you do."

I shook my head, my hand moving along her surprisingly firm bicep. I'd thought there was nothing on her to begin with – that she was just skinny. But as I let my fingertips map her arms, I could feel the toned muscles wrapping around her bones, "It wouldn't compare to your lifestyle. Besides, we're not here to talk."

"Have it your way." She tightened her hold on my hips, her fingers sliding to rest on my lower back. She could move. I could feel it in her hips, and I knew she could feel it in mine.

That knowledge alone was enough to spur along the natural flirt within me and I rested my arm around her neck, pulling her head closer to mine, "I always have it my way."

This time, I saw the definite hint of a smile on her lips. Her face turned to my jaw as if she wanted nothing more than to hide the betrayal of humour on her features, "Then this might end up problematic." She murmured, her nose brushing over my skin as her hips moved in sync with mine, "Because I always have it my way too."

"It's only problematic if we want different things." I breathed, my hand dragging over the bumps of her spine.

"Then tell me what you want." Her teeth grazed over my jugular, her musky but intoxicating scent filling my nose.

"I want to feel something." I told her honestly, the compactness of our bodies imposing a false sense of intimacy.

But it was true. I guess that's why I hadn't given up the drugs or the smoking… or the reckless nights out. I was so busy trying to save lives at the hospital, living up to expectations of responsibility, and organise myself that I no longer had time to _feel_ anything.

She was quiet against me, one hand sliding around my waist to press against the flat of my stomach. Despite the voluminous noise surrounding us, and the potential distractions of alcohol and other people, I knew she was listening.

"Then feel." She said steadily, spinning me around so my back was pressed up to her front, my hands automatically moving to rest over her thighs. Her lips were on my neck, her fingers trailing over my stomach, grasping at my hips.

She moved her mouth so artfully down my skin, it was all I could do to stop the quiet moan leaving my chest. My eyes fell closed, permitting the sensation of being close to another person run over my body. I let my fingers tauten on her thighs, my nails cutting lightly into her soft skin. She was breathing heavily, her tongue trailing along my shoulder.

I was feeling.

Sure, it was erratic pleasure; unfamiliar intimacy with a stranger.

But I was feeling.

She had opened the gateway to raw passion, disregarding any kind of reservations I may have had.

I purposefully hadn't asked her name; I didn't want to create the illusion that this could be more than a one-night thing. It wasn't. I highly doubted she was planning on extending it longer than just tonight, either.

Besides, knowing her name would take away the mystery.

God, Bellamy was right about me. I did like tall, dark-haired strangers shrouded in mystery.

Shit. Bellamy.

And the others.

I'd completely ditched them. Would they be worried?

My thoughts were quickly discarded as I felt the woman's fingers graze down the side of my throat, reminding me of the place I'd been in just moments before.

I let my head tilt back, the heat of our bodies moving together spread a dusting of pink over my cheeks, "Clarke…" Her lips were by my ear, "I want you to tell me about you."

She knew she'd helped me feel something; God, I was pretty certain that there wasn't a single person in the room that hadn't seen me feel something.

But she was demanding something in return.

I turned, my eyes locking onto hers.

Her hand fell to my rear and she tugged me back to her front, her eyes appealing to mine for an answer.

I could feel the warmth of her skin on my backside even through my dress.

"Like what?"

"What do you do?" She pushed her hips subtly into mine, but I was already shaking my head.

I wasn't making crappy discussion about what I did for a living, where I grew up, or how many siblings I did or didn't have while I was dirty dancing with an austere club-owner. She already had my attention, so why was she determined to pretend like she was interested in me for something other than pleasure?

"Are you normally this difficult?"

I nodded and moved my fingers to tangle into her hair, tugging her head back slightly so I could press my lips to her throat, "Always."

I could feel her ragged breaths tear through her chest as I exploited the bare skin on her neck. I doubt what we were doing could even be classed as dancing anymore.

Her hands had claimed my ass, pulling my hips into hers carelessly; taking control seemed natural to her, as though it was expected of her lovers to willingly submit.

I could understand why they did.

She made it all too easy, leading my body with her rhythm, placing my hips exactly where she wanted them. I almost acquiesced to her instinctive dominance until I recalled just how stubborn I could be.

I clenched my fingers tighter in her locks, yanking her head back one more time, "What makes you think I would be the one to have the screaming orgasm? The way I see it, you'd be begging for me to give it to you."

This knocked her off-balance, and her lips parted; I could see why she got a thrill out of doing it to me.

Before she had time to react, I shook my head, pressing my finger to her open mouth, "You're not in charge anymore."

I could see the heavy desire in the green of her eyes as they widened. If she wasn't turned on before, she definitely was now.

"Time to go?"

I wasn't making a suggestion. I was making an order.

She just silently nodded her head and slid her hand into mine, pulling me out of the crowds.

Not a word transpired between us as we exited the club, nor as she opened the door of a sleek black car, indicating for me to get in first. I eased back into the comforts of the leather, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

This was really happening.

"Are you going back to your hotel, Madam?" The driver was well suited up, his gloved hand resting on the steering wheel as he glanced at the woman over his shoulder. She just inclined her head, maintaining her composure.

But I could see the lust set deep in her eyes.

It took every ounce of my self-control not to reach over and take her right where she was sitting.

By the way her fists clenched in her lap, I could tell she was having a similar thought process.

Moments later, we'd arrived outside a fancy hotel – I'd have given the descriptive details, but honestly, I couldn't focus on anything else except the pale green stare locked on mine.

Within seconds, she'd pushed me into the lift, backing me up against the mirror, "Not in charge?" She asked, quietly.

It seemed my comment had stuck.

I gave her only a smirk in response, knowing it would likely piss her off all the more.

It did.

Her hand gripped onto my hip harshly, letting the severity of her stare drive into me – and yes, it was unnerving. But my smirk only widened. Her mouth drew closer to mine, and I could taste the dizzying sweetness on her breath. Everything about her stretched my desire.

The instant the lift doors opened, she pulled away, her fingers linking with mine as she pulled me to her hotel room. With ease, she unlocked the door – there was no fumbling I was used to experiencing with one-night flings at hotels. She swiped the card, opened the door, dragged me inside, and kicked it closed.

I barely had time to breathe before she was on me, shoving my back into the wall, her lips finally finding mine.

The force of her kiss was staggering, and the thud of my spine colliding with the wall sent a small shudder over my skin.

Her teeth clamped on my lower lip, dragging it roughly into her mouth.

 _Holy shit._

I couldn't help the small moan that tumbled from my throat as she moved her thigh between my legs, letting the pressure roll against me. But the second she thought she'd reclaimed her throne, I yanked my arm from her hold and jabbed her back a step, tangling my hand into her hair and directing her towards the bed, "No. You're not in charge." I resolved, throatily.

She gave me one exposed glance before I felt her legs hit the edge of the mattress. I reached behind her, finding the zip at the back of her black dress and jerked it down so the material fell from her shoulders. I couldn't help but let my eyes roam. She was wearing a dark matching lace set, the colour complimenting her skin tone.

As I'd vaguely imagined on the dancefloor, her stomach was trimly toned, along with the rest of her figure, despite her slender curves. She didn't just act tough as nails – it seemed she _was_.

I already wanted to drag my nails over her torso.

She let me look, her breast heaving with each breath.

Once I was just about satisfied I'd examined each inch of her body twice over, I began to step out of my dress, kicking it to one side.

This was like a cliché porno scene – two girls getting off in underwear and heels.

Well, she was wearing thick heeled boots, showing the smallest hint of Gothicism.

But I was already destroying the image by kicking off my shoes and crouching down to undo her laces.

She watched me, her gaze thick with anticipation.

Once I'd untied both boots, I barked a husky demand, "Sit."

She complied – surprisingly – and lowered herself to the bed so I could raise up each leg in turn and ease off her footwear.

With a clunk, they both hit the floor next to mine, but I remained crouching, my eyes staying on hers the entire time.

I knew she was quickly losing the will to gain her dominance back. It was pretty obvious she wasn't used to having somebody fight back more than once.

Slowly, I ran my fingers along the underside of her calf, up to the bend of her knee. I did so deliberately, knowing that the change of pace would throw her off. Pushing her legs apart so I was kneeling between them, I relocated my hands to her thighs, moving them over her skin to tuck beneath the elastic of her underwear. Her breath caught in her throat as I began to pull the material down.

It ended up in a pile along with the rest of the discarded items.

Pressing my lips to her inner thigh, I kissed my way upwards, finding the spot between her legs with my tongue. The soft sound emitting from her lips was enough to make me sweat. As I moved my mouth, pushing my fingers to join, her hand tangled into my hair, gripping onto me hard.

I didn't relent.

Not for a moment.

Not until I felt her thighs crush my head and her muscles convulse around me.

Not until I heard her scream.

And she did.

I hated admitting it. But it was the sexiest sound I'd heard in a long time – smooth, yet hoarse, both at the same time.

The pain of her fingers in my hair and her legs wrapping around me equalled the pleasure it caused.

I expected her to collapse backwards, but she didn't. She controlled her breathing after a few heated seconds before she released me, her eyes opening and finding mine.

I gave her a breathless smirk, coyly wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Stand up." She whispered.

I raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"I said: stand up."

Slowly, I pulled myself to my feet, eyeing her with caution.

She stood with me, pressing her front to mine subtly, "I want you to lay on the bed, Clarke."

Without questioning her, I moved to the mattress, leaning back into the pillows, refusing to let my eyes leave hers for a second.

She was still wearing her bra, and I caught myself wishing I'd taken that off earlier. I didn't expect I'd get the chance now… I knew she was plotting her revenge.

And a sick part of me loved it.

She tossed her hair back over her shoulders and knelt on the bed, "Take off your underwear."

I did.

I cast the fabric around my middle to the floor.

This time it was her turn to scrape her eyes over my body, although she appeared unsatisfied. I raised an eyebrow as she edged towards me, "Roll over."

I did that too.

With one quick flick of her fingers, my bra snapped open. Her fingers pulled down my spine, moving to my rear. She clipped the skin with her fingertips, allowing herself a handful before she dragged me by my hip to lay on my back once again. My pale blue bra was swiftly plucked from my body and tossed nonchalantly to the floor. Once again, she subjected me to a thorough appraisal, her lower lip moving to rest beneath her teeth; any impression of dissatisfaction had quickly dispersed, leaving only raw appreciation on her features – even if her jaw was set, determined to keep her uncaring reputation intact.

Lowering her lips to my breast and settling her teeth on skin, she pressed her thumb into the front of my hip (a particular sensitive spot for me), and seemed to enjoy the way I arched my back from the bedding.

"You like that." She murmured, raising her head up and examining my facial expression – God only knew what it was doing.

She returned her mouth to my skin, running her tongue down my sternum, over my stomach, and hesitated just above the place I wanted her the most.

She was doing this on purpose.

She wanted me to beg.

I moved my hand to her hair, the way she had with me and grazed my nails over her scalp. _Do it_.

The silent plea in my fingers seemed to suffice, and she finally pressed her mouth over the heat between my legs, sending a wave of pre-gratification through my blood.

She fucked me exactly the way I knew she would; controlled, intense, deep.

She was giving me this pleasure as punishment.

My other hand curled into the bedding, gripping at the sheets as she pushed herself in and out of me, over and over.

I tried clamping my teeth over my lip to prevent the strained sounds leaving my mouth, but I knew she could hear me struggle; if anything it made her work harder, driving me to the brink of white-hot fulfilment, and slowing her movements to let me peer over the edge. I could feel the ache of anticipation swell. Her eyes flickered up to mine, her lips raising from my flesh for just long enough to utter a command, "Scream."

Even if I'd have wanted to keep my silence, I couldn't.

Her mouth disappeared and she pushed me over the edge in blinding pleasure.

I cursed loudly, my body convulsing before the curve of my spine hit the bed.

She only stopped moving once my body began to relax in recovery.

Pulling away from me and drawing herself upright, she let her eyes scan my helpless form once more.

She didn't need to speak, and neither did I.

We'd both gotten what we deserved.

We'd both gotten what we desired.

 **A/N: It was weird not using Lexa's name throughout the chapter, but I kind of liked her anonymity. It sort of added to her appeal in my opinion. I may carry this on, yet… But I haven't decided. For now, I'm going to keep it as a one-shot. Hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to review, or PM me with your thoughts.**

 **-Lady of Cythera**

 **xox**


	2. Vital Signs

**A/N: So, I caved. I liked the direction this story could go in more than the other Clexa fic I posted. Because I hadn't planned on it being more than a one-shot, I only have a vague idea of where it's going to go from here so I'm looking forwards to developing the plot further. Thank you to the guest reviewers for your input and knocking me into the decision to continue. It didn't take a lot of persuading for me to carry on… Enjoy!**

Regaining my composure wasn't easy. Especially with the way she continued to look at me – even after we'd both gotten our (literal) fill.

She watched me from kneeling position on the bed as I spun my legs over the edge of the mattress, hoisting myself upright. I could still feel her pale gaze burning into my skin as I leaned down to grab my clothes, making a little show of it as I slowly dressed myself.

"You're leaving?"

My austere stranger raised an eyebrow at me as my feet found their place in my heels. I mirrored her expression, my face turning to glance at her over my shoulder, "Isn't that what's supposed to happen now?" I countered, reaching for my purse to pluck my phone from the inside pocket.

"I don't know."

I felt the scornful laugh leave my lips before I heard it, "You don't know." I scoffed, "Like this isn't something that happens every other night for you."

As expected, I'd received multiple missed calls and messages from both Blake siblings.

My olive-skinned stranger pulled herself to her feet, not taking the time to clothe herself – which proved to be an inconvenient distraction for me, "Usually the others aren't in such a hurry to escape…"

Eventually, I managed to respond to Octavia, briefly informing her I was fine and that I'd see her in the morning, "Careful." I began, "Or I'll start thinking you _want_ me to stay."

Surely, this was perfect for her. She was getting let off the hook easy. But the guarded edge returned to her tone and she continued to eye me steadily, "Have it your way."

I pulled a cigarette from the packet and placed it between my teeth as I adjusted the strap on my purse, "You know I always do." I smirked around the item in my mouth, dropping the strap of my purse over my shoulder.

"You haven't even asked me my name." She commented quietly, as though she'd at least expected me to demonstrate some personal interest in her.

I took the cigarette from my teeth and tucked it behind my ear, "I wasn't aware I'd need it." Walking over to the door, and pulling the handle, I looked over at her to get one final glimpse of her finely formed body, "Thanks for the screaming orgasm." I left her with a wink, closing the door firmly behind me.

…

"You _slept_ with her?"

"We had sex." I corrected pedantically with a roll of my eyes, my hands cupping around the hot mug of coffee in my lap, "Then I left."

Octavia smirked and stretched her legs out on the sofa, "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"How was it?" She asked, sipping her drink.

The recollection of the raw heat hit me hard and I paused, the colour rising to my cheeks, "It was…" I began, unsure how to continue from that point.

This earned me a mocking laugh from my best friend as she tilted her head back, "Jesus, do I even want to know?"

"Probably not." I responded, sinking further into the cushions.

This was easily my favourite part of sharing my apartment with my closest friend; hungover coffee chats.

"What did you end up doing after?" I asked.

"You mean after you ditched us?" She quipped with a raise of her eyebrow.

"After I was _abducted_." I returned, taking a long sip of my coffee, feeling my body finally begin to revive itself.

"We went back into the club… Bellamy pulled some trashy girl and left early, so Linc and I came back here. He's still crashed out in my bed."

"So, when are you guys moving in together?" I smirked, knowing how touchy the subject of anything serious regarding her relationship was to her.

"Now. He's going to be a permanent fixture in your apartment."

I grimaced, "Okay, okay. Point taken. We won't talk about that."

Octavia laughed and reached for a cookie, "I'm more intrigued about what made you change your mind about sleeping with the mysterious womaniser. Seems you gave into her after all… I'm most disappointed in you, Clarke Griffin."

"Are you sure you want to know what made up my mind for me…?" I arched an eyebrow, amused at the manner in which the corners of her mouth turned down.

"In a car crash kind of way."

That was our way of defining: twisted interest.

She didn't want to hear about my sex life, just as I didn't want to hear about hers. Yet, we couldn't seem to stop ourselves asking anyway. Kind of like seeing a car crash and hating every moment of the image… but still looking at it out of twisted interest and the inability to look elsewhere.

Well, she'd asked…

I explained in the most uncultured of detail every part of our exchange I could recall – even exaggerating a little, just for the kicks of watching Octavia's expression twist in sheer disgust.

"…So I pulled off her knickers, which were hot black lace by the way, and–"

"–Okay! Jesus. That's enough. I can't. I'm going to throw up my coffee." She took a traumatised bite of her cookie and shuddered visibly.

"I don't know what all the fuss is about." I teased, "A small part of you likes it. I'll convert you to women sooner or later… Lincoln would _love_ it."

That cost me a half-eaten cookie to the head.

"Lincoln would love what?"

Octavia glanced up at the sound of her boyfriend's voice, placing her mug down on the table as she stood up, strutting over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sparing me a wicked smile before she leaned forwards and greeted him with a deep kiss to his lips.

I harvested the half-eaten cookie and launched it right back at her head, "Cut it out. You're gross."

Laughing, and pecking his lips one final time, Octavia headed off to make him a coffee.

"I was simply saying how much you'd love it if Octavia was into girls too." I remarked innocently.

Lincoln seemed to genuinely consider this for a moment as he sat down at the other end of the sofa Octavia had been lounging on, and shrugged, "It's a visual I could get used to."

His girlfriend shot him a warning glare over her shoulder as she spooned sugar into his drink, "Carry on, and I'll ban you from boobs for a week."

He laughed softly and stretched one large arm over the back of the sofa, "Yeah, right. They'd miss me too much."

"I wouldn't worry, Lincoln. They'd get the attention from another girl, don't worry." I chimed, content with stirring the pot further.

Octavia scowled and returned to the sofa, "That coffee of yours is going to end up all over your head in a minute, Griffin."

Laughing impishly, I just leaned my head back against the cushion, "Shut up. You love it."

…

The commencing couple of weeks had left me largely exhausted. I'd been spending most of my time studying for upcoming medical exams, working at the hospital, and sleeping as and when I could fit it in.

Tonight was my final shift. I was covering ER on a Saturday night – more commonly referred to as the graveyard shift.

I'd not been given the time to even take a pee break (not that I needed one), but it was one of those shifts where you blinked, and immediately wondered who's life you could've just costed by doing so.

"Your blood pressure is still elevated… Try and aim for the sick bowl next time, ma'am… Please don't take your drip out… No, you can't booze in here, sir." The words were leaving my lips but I was so drained, I was barely aware I was even speaking.

The sound of my pager bleeping in my pocket made me glance down. Another emergency. I followed a bustle of healthcare assistants towards the Red Bay, wondering how I still had the energy to keep up.

Instantly my eyes locked on a scene of chaos. A huge bearded gentleman was lying unconscious on the bed, covered in blood – although I wasn't entirely sure it was all his.

"What happened?" I asked, pulling on a pair of non-latex gloves as I neared his bedside.

One of the assistants filled me in, "Bouncer. Confrontation at the club. The clubber pulled a knife. He's lost a lot of blood."

He was already hooked up to the vital signs monitor, but they were looking pretty shaky, "Get the de-fib just in case." I muttered, right before the sudden horror of recognition hit me.

It was _the_ bouncer. From the club.

 _Shit_.

How had somebody managed to pull a knife on him?

"Keep applying the pressure on his wounds." I instructed, wondering where the qualified doctor was and why it always took them so goddamn long to arrive, "What's his blood type?" I asked.

One of the assistants standing by shrugged, "I don't know."

She continued to stand, motionless by my side.

 _For god's sake_.

"Can you find out?" I turned to her, the stress leaking into my tone, "His ID is strapped on his arm. Look him up on the system and find out from his notes.

"Right." She nodded quickly, writing out his name on her hand before she dashed off to find an available computer.

"Keep holding the wounds." I told the other assistants, "I need to contact a doctor."

I reached for my pager, trying to alert the ward's senior, but received no indication that I'd been heard.

"AB positive." The assistant had returned with a packet of blood and I nodded. Good.

"Okay, great. Try contact a doctor for me while I set up the IV."

"Dr Griffin, he – he's not breathing."

"What?" I glanced over at the assistant pressing a bandage to his stomach, "Begin CPR!"

I reached over for the defibrillator kit and grabbed a pair of scissors and turned back to the bouncer, slicing through his top while the assistant performed the rescue breaths. I pressed the pads to his torso, waiting for the machine to turn on.

Where the fuck was the doctor?

"Amy!" I spied one of the nurses hurrying past the bay, "Patient in resus. Can you set up the IV, please? Clear!" I shouted, as the assistants drew away so I could send the shock through his body.

I checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

"Clear!" I exclaimed once more.

No pulse.

 _Fuck_.

"Clear!" I repeated, moving my fingers to his neck once the jolt had passed through his system. I exhaled in relief, feeling the throb of his pulse in his neck, and hearing the bleeps from the monitor start up again, "We have a pulse." I breathed in relief, "Take off the de-fib. I need the blood." I reached for the IV tube and attached it to a needle, grabbing his arm to find the most prominent vein. It was difficult considering the veins had clamped down to conserve blood flow. He'd lost a lot.

I managed to locate one after a moment, and pushed the needle in, setting off the drip immediately.

Okay.

I fell back a step to catch my breath.

He was alive.

Still unconscious, but alive.

Where was the _goddamn_ senior doctor?

Still no sign of him.

I stood by the bouncer's bedside, examining the monitor to make sure he didn't relapse.

After a couple of minutes, I heard one of the nurses speak from behind me, "How's he doing? There's somebody waiting just around the corner for news."

I nodded, "Okay, tell them to come here."

She nodded and turned away, disappearing around the curtain.

At the sound of footsteps, I turned, suddenly realising my uniform was stained red with blood. Not the best image for the visitor.

I glanced up, opening my mouth to speak, "I'm so sorry that the senior doc–"

Then my heart stopped dead, my eyes confronted by a pale green stare.

 _Bollocks_.

…

…

I'd contemplated going to Polis club tonight, but I'd changed my mind.

It had been a long week.

Reading a book in bed with a cup of tea was the more favourable option.

I hadn't even felt like fucking the night away with some nameless face either.

Just as I closed the novel and reached over to turn off the light, I heard the violent vibration of my phone on the bedside table.

This had better be important.

I leaned over and glanced at the caller ID. Indra, the security officer in charge of the doors.

She rarely phoned me – especially if she knew I didn't want to be disturbed on nights such as tonight.

"Yes?"

" _I'm sorry to call you. But there's been an emergency. Gustus got jumped by a knife. He's been stabbed. There's an ambulance on the way, but I thought you should know_."

I was silent for a moment before I replied, keeping my voice even as I stood up.

"I'm on my way. Call the police and keep it contained."

" _Already done_."

I ended the call and reached over for a pair of jeans from my dresser, pulling a jumper on over my head. I grabbed my coat and bag, not caring in the slightest that I barely looked presentable to be seen in public.

None of that mattered.

I unlocked my car and slid in, speeding off in the direction of Polis.

The scene was an utter catastrophe. The police had finally arrived and were busy blocking off the scene, redirecting the huddle of panicked clubbers.

I pulled up on the side of the road as the paramedics on sight were hoisting Gustus into the back of the ambulance. Slamming the door behind me and locking my car over my shoulder, I ran to the vehicle, "I'll take it from here." I told Indra, resting a hand on her shoulder briefly, "I'll keep you updated."

One of the police officers looked down at me and shook his head, "Ma'am, you need to move."

I raised my eyebrows and knocked his hand from my elbow, "Out of my way." I demanded, heading over to the paramedic who was about to shut the doors.

"Wait." I held up a hand, and he caught my eye, already shaking his head.

"Sorry, Miss, I can't let you in here."

I fixed my gaze on his and took a step forwards, "But you will. This is my club. He is my employee. Let me in."

He blinked, his lips parting in surprise, before he nodded hurriedly, "Of course."

I stepped up into the back of the vehicle and let him close the doors behind me.

The hospital was close enough not to require the air ambulance, although transporting Gustus into the ER took a little longer as more manpower was required due to his weight.

All I could do was watch, uselessly.

I wanted to go to him, but I knew I'd only get in the way.

"Okay, there's a medic on the way. They will carry on from us. Just wait here please. For your own sake. I don't want it to be traumatising for you, and the staff will need to concentrate."

I didn't need to hear it.

Just because I was a young woman, people assumed I needed talking to like a child.

I could hear the voices from his curtained off compartment.

But that was when I heard the worst.

"Begin CPR!"

Instinctively, I began to walk down the corridor towards him, but a nurse held out her arm in front of me.

"You're urged to stay here, ma'am."

I struggled deeply with myself before consenting. It was for the best.

"Clear!"

I waited.

"Clear!"

My chest tightened.

"Clear!"

I couldn't listen. But I had no choice.

My pulse thudded loudly in my head, although my expression remained unchanged. I couldn't let on that I was scared for him. Not yet.

That would make this real.

I caught the arm of a nurse bustling past me, "Can you tell me what's going on at the end bay?"

She paused, "The senior doctor should be here soon. In the meantime, our junior should be available to speak in a moment. Let me check."

The doctor wasn't even there?

I could feel my anger swell, just before the assistant returned.

The junior would get a serving from me.

I was not in the mood to be tested.

"He's stable enough for you to go to him now." She informed me and I inclined my head, striding with purpose to the curtains before I knocked them out of my way.

The junior had her back to me, her blonde hair pulled back into an unkempt ponytail. There had better be good news.

After a couple of seconds, she spun around, her head lowered as she examined her blood-doused uniform.

"I'm so sorry that the senior doc–" She began, raising her head up to acknowledge me, before she cut herself short.

It took me a split second to realise why. But then my anger dispelled instantly, my eyes flickering as they met deep, exhausted blue.

She appeared just as shocked as I was numb, her entire body frozen.

"I'm here!" The senior doctor announced before I could speak, moving past me, "I was on resus elsewhere. What needs to be done?"

The familiar pissy expression settled over Clarke's features, quickly overturning her disbelief, and she sent the doctor an irritated stare, "Nothing now. Just a check-over."

He nodded, wiping his hands on his white coat, "This de-fib needs packing up, Griffin. Have you spoken to family yet?"

Her fury expanded visibly, and I watched her take a deep breath to calm herself. There was no way she was packing up the defibrillator. I could tell by the set of her jaw.

"Gustus' visitor is here now." She remarked, "I was about to speak to her."

The senior nodded and glanced over at me briefly, "I'll complete a check-up. This is Dr Griffin." He waved a hand in Clarke's direction, "She will keep you informed while I assess him."

 _Dr Griffin_. It had a certain ring to it.

Clarke closed her eyes for a moment, and I was willing to bet the senior doctor would cop for a punch from her if he continued the way he was. Without another word, she stepped outside his compartment and closed the curtain behind her, peeling the gloves from her hands, "I'm very sorry for the doctor's delay, and for the state of my scrubs."

I didn't doubt the sincerity of her words.

"There's no need to apologise." I said, and I meant it, already feeling a little guilty for my previous resentment towards the junior, when it appeared she had been bending over backwards to save Gustus' life.

She sent me a well-practiced smile and tossed the gloves and apron in the clinical waste bin, "At the moment, I can't tell you fully what's to be expected of his recovery until the senior finishes his check-up." She took a step towards me, masking whatever thoughts were currently raging through her head. If there even were any.

Even in our current situation, I couldn't ignore the way my body craved to be closer to hers.

"Unfortunately, we did have to resuscitate him. He'd lost a lot of blood, but the good news is that Gustus is stable for the moment." Clarke told me, "I've hooked him up to an IV, and it shouldn't be too long before his blood level balances out again."

I nodded, not bothering to try and articulate my thoughts into words. It would take too much effort.

" _Griffin_."

Clarke straightened out her chin and lifted her head up, "I'm so sorry. I'll be out in a moment. Feel free to take a seat." She turned away from me and ducked back behind the curtains.

I didn't take a seat.

I remained exactly where I was.

I could hear their voices but it was difficult to determine exactly what they were saying, and I knew I'd find out sooner or later anyway.

Some immeasurable moments later, both doctors pushed back the curtains and allowed me to see Gustus.

He looked dreadful, but at least his face had been cleaned up somewhat.

At least he was breathing.

"Griffin, I'll let you fill this young lady in. I'm required elsewhere. And put that de-fib away!"

Clarke didn't dignify him with a response and just took a step to the side so I could move to stand beside Gustus' bed.

"Would you like to discuss this privately, or would you rather be nearby?"

I was mildly impressed at her ability to maintain professionalism considering the stress she'd just undergone, as well as finding me on the other side of the curtain.

To tell the truth, this had been a little more than I'd bargained for myself.

"Here's fine." I moved to close the curtains behind us, shutting out the external commotion.

"Is there anybody else here who needs informing?" She asked, indicating for me to take a seat.

I shook my head and obediently leaned back into the chair, crossing one leg over the other, as she sat adjacent to me.

"Gustus has sustained some serious injuries. Luckily, the knife didn't go too deep as to rupture any internal organs as far as we can tell, so at the moment there are no indications that he's bleeding internally. But we will need to keep checking up on his wounds to make absolutely certain." She took a breath, and gave me a moment to process the information. I inclined my head for her to continue, my eyes running over her face.

Clarke was doing well to conceal any trace of exhaustion she felt, although the slump of her shoulders gave it away to me. She blinked twice, clearing her throat as she broke her eyes away from mine, "We will be regularly monitoring his vital signs until he's had enough blood to be operated on."

"He'll be okay?" I asked, keeping my voice matter-of-fact. I didn't want her to see me as anything other than the heartless club-owner she knew me to be. Not right then. Not while we were both so exposed.

"We will do everything we can to aid his recovery." She told me carefully, her eyes shifting back to mine, the heat automatically crawling over my arms, "At the moment, it's looking promising. It is important to note that his condition can change at any time, but that doesn't mean it will. We just need to keep checking up on him. Hopefully, he will wake sooner rather than later so we can properly assess his condition."

I sighed, willing my spine not to fold.

I knew her eyes were still on me, "I'll get you a coffee." She said softly, standing up.

"It's okay." I replied, tenaciously.

She ignored me anyway, "Sugar?"

My gaze drifted to land on hers, and I knew she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Obviously.

"No. Black."

My response seemed to amuse her and she offered me the smallest hint of a smirk, forgetting herself for a moment, "I could've placed a bet on that. I'll be right back."

I watched her leave, resting my teeth on my lower lip.

Her comment confused me, but relieved me all the same. I was beginning to think she was going to crack under the strain of her professionalism.

…

…

She had black coffee written all over her. None of this softcore sugar and milk business.

I leaned back against the counter once I'd grabbed a fresh pair of scrubs from the linen cupboard, taking a number of deep breaths.

Was I being too professional?

I mean, sure I had to respect boundaries – but this was somebody I'd fucked. Hard.

This was somebody who'd fucked me back. Harder.

How was I supposed to act?

Especially in such a serious situation.

I mixed the granules into the steaming water, adding a few drops of cold.

It was only a matter of time before she figured out what I did for a living. She always seemed to get what she wanted one way or another.

 _God. What an awful thing to think._

I bit my lip shamefully. It wasn't like she'd wanted this to happen to Gustus. She'd tried to cloak her concern with a stony façade. But she wouldn't be here if she didn't care.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, dreading to see who looked back at me. As predicted, I looked pretty goddamn shocking.

And my hair…!

I yanked it out of the ponytail and tried the best I could to smooth it, retying it up in the elastic. God. Now she was going to think I was making an effort…

I grimaced at myself, moving away from the mirror and picking up her coffee; I'd considered taking an espresso shot myself, but I figured my heart didn't need any more surprises tonight.

"Here." I handed the cup over to her upon my return, scanning her appearance quickly.

She looked a little worn herself, her face lacking the dark eye makeup she'd donned that night. She was in full black; skinny jeans and a long hanging jumper. It should've made her seem more human, but her expression betrayed nothing.

Even dressed down, this club-owner was fierce.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her, my tone edging on cautious.

She sipped the coffee, and ran her eyes over my face – and my hair. Jesus, she knew I'd redone it.

"Fine." She shrugged one shoulder lazily, "Better than Gustus."

I nodded, occupying myself with recording his vital signs, writing on the clipboard hooked over his bedpost.

"You saved his life."

Her comment was unexpected, causing my pen to pause over the paper momentarily, "That's what I'm here for." I was trying desperately not to let the sensation of being close to her overrun my mentality, and so I continued the conversation in the hopes I would stop seeing her standing naked before me, "He's strong."

She was silent, contemplating her next words carefully, before she finally spoke again, "I didn't ask him to blackmail you."

"Blackmail?" I almost scoffed, hanging Gustus' clipboard back on the bedpost.

"Yes. At the club. He noticed me watching you."

Impulsively, my gaze switched to hers. I shouldn't have been startled by the way she was looking at me, but her intensity wasn't something one could become easily accustomed to.

"He meant well… It was his idea to ask you to join me. I hadn't asked him to fetch you because I already knew you'd say no."

My head dropped to one side, my fingers resting on the headboard, "And how did you know that?"

"How did you know I take my coffee black?" She returned, unblinking.

 _Touché_.

I could feel the threats of a smile on my lips, and to avoid giving her the satisfaction of seeing it, I faced away from her, wondering why I was still standing here.

I knew I had other things to do. Resus paperwork. Filling out Gustus' notes. Seeing to other patients.

But my body was disinclined to exit.

"So, how come you're here alone?" I asked, knowing I was probably toeing the borders of my job description, "Don't club-owners normally have a trail of security following them everywhere?"

"I was in bed." She replied, shutting down the conversation.

I glanced away, biting my lip.

 _Idiot, Clarke._

But yet, there was something alien about picturing her alone in bed (if she'd even been alone in bed, which I doubted), and then receiving a phone call about her bouncer. It made her seem kind of vulnerable.

A large part of me hung on that thought. Who was she when she was alone?

"I didn't have you pinned down as a medic." She changed the flow of conversation effortlessly, dragging me from my thoughts.

"No?" I met her stare once again, "And what did you have me pinned down as?"

She tossed her empty cup into the bin sitting in the corner of the compartment, "I didn't. I can't seem to figure you out, Dr Griffin."

The way she'd addressed me shouldn't have turned me on.

But it did.

"Well, I guess I can't keep my secrets for ever. You seem to have a knack for getting what you want."

No matter how weakened she may have felt, my mysterious club-owner reserved her elegance. She let her leg hang gracefully over her opposite thigh, her foot swaying inches above the laminate flooring.

She said nothing, but observed me for the thousandth time, her hands folded in her lap.

The thickness of the air between us was palpable.

I cleared my throat, "I'll go inform the doctor that Gustus should be ready for surgery soon. His drip is almost complete."

My stranger nodded, "Thank you, Clarke."

I pressed my lips together lightly as I headed towards the curtain, "See you soon."

…

I hadn't seen her again that shift. I'd been called on for another emergency, and hadn't gotten the chance to check up on her – well, Gustus – again.

Unfortunately, the patient in the latter emergency hadn't been so lucky. I hated walking away from the hospital at the end of a shift with the weight of a person's life hanging on my shoulders.

The car park was dimly lit by the approaching sunrise, and I stifled a yawn, sliding into the front seat. A cigarette, and the thought of having tomorrow off, were the only things getting me through the drive home.

The past couple of weeks had almost finished me off.

I pulled up outside my apartment and trailed up the stairs, unlocking the door and mumbling a dead "hello" to Octavia as she passed me on her way out to work.

"Morning, sunshine." She returned, and I let her sort out locking up as I shut myself away in my room, finally collapsing into bed.

When I eventually woke, it was some time in the mid-afternoon.

I lay in bed, caught in the groggy state of needing to get up to pee and eat, but not wanting to remove myself from the comforts of the quilts.

I hated myself for it, but the first trail of thought my mind took me on was the memory of seeing green eyes the night before.

I ran my hand through my hair and pushed myself upright. I needed to get with somebody else. Thinking about her was getting me wound up and I wasn't sure why.

I knew there was somebody I could call on.

 _To: Niylah_

 _Busy tonight?_

I dropped my phone back onto the pillow and stretched, not massively taken aback when I received a response almost immediately.

I read the text from my screen, smirking to myself slightly.

 _From: Niylah_

 _Drinks on you._

…

…

I'd left the hospital a few hours after Gustus had been through surgery, hoping I'd get to see him wake up.

He hadn't.

I hated leaving, but I had to. There was no point torturing myself over and over, willing him to make himself conscious.

I exhaled and phoned for a ride back to my car.

I needed sleep.

It had been a long night for a number of reasons. Not just because of Gustus.

Seeing Clarke had drained whatever motivation I'd had to keep my walls up. She'd seen me half-vulnerable, and that would cost me.

Once I'd arrived back at the club, I called Indra from my car, resting both hands on the steering wheel.

She answered almost instantaneously, already asking about Gustus; she sounded as though she'd not had even a second of sleep.

"He's stable. But he hasn't woken up yet. I'm going to spend the day there tomorrow."

" _I guess that's as good news as I could hope for. I thought… I thought he wasn't going to make it._ "

I slowed down at a stop light and tilted my head back, catching sight of the time on the dashboard.

10:07 PM.

That meant I hadn't slept in 28 hours.

"He nearly didn't. He had to be resuscitated." My thoughts trained on the image of seeing Clarke standing in her bloody scrubs, utterly bone-weary. Then they flickered to her expression when I'd referred to her as Dr Griffin; an uninvited and inappropriate intervention in my mind.

But one that left me wanting all the same.

" _Thank god he made it._ "

"How are you?" I asked, hoping to stir the content of my thoughts into something more suitable for the situation.

" _I'm fine. Spent all of last night at the police station. A man has been arrested, but I won't hear how the interrogation pans out until tomorrow._ "

I sighed, pulling up in my drive and switching off the ignition, disconnecting the Bluetooth of my phone to the car to continue the conversation as the electronic gates locked themselves up behind me.

" _I want the man responsible and any other person involved to pay for what they've done._ "

"They will." I promised softly, "I'll make sure of it. This won't be forgiven, and it won't be forgotten."

" _I know that. I know you'll serve him justice_."

"Of course. Anyway, I have to go. I'm home now. I'll speak to you tomorrow." I hung up once I'd hooked my coat on the peg, turning towards the staircase.

Gustus' attacker was playing a highly dangerous game. I'd meant my words.

There was no room for redemption for a sin like this.

Blood was paid for by blood.

…

…

"You have to go?"

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, blindly reaching through the dark for my underwear, "I'm sorry, Niylah. That was my mother on the phone. She needs me to head into the hospital tomorrow afternoon for a couple of hours."

"I thought tomorrow was your day off." The tattooed woman with dirty blonde hair leaned against the headboard, her arms folded across her heaving breast.

"As did I." I muttered, zipping up my jeans, my mood depleting more rapidly with each second that passed.

"Can't you say no? You never stay over."

I glanced over to her and exhaled wearily, "I'm sorry. I'll call you later."

Once I'd located the rest of my clothing, I called for a taxi and headed to the door.

We both knew I was lying. I wasn't going to call her.

I never did.

As soon as the taxi pulled up outside my apartment, I paid the driver and pushed the door shut, hearing my name called a few paces away.

Glancing over my shoulder, I caught sight of Octavia strolling towards me.

"Hey. You just finished work?"

"Yeah. You just finished fucking around?" She smirked, ducking under my arm to enter the building first.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Clarke, you have her lipstick all over your neck. Definitely Niylah's colour."

I just rolled my eyes, following her up the stairs, wiping at the marks on my throat.

"So, what excuse did you use to leave this time?"

I groaned, "I didn't need one this time. The almighty mother Griffin has summoned me into work tomorrow afternoon."

Octavia held the apartment door open for me, greeting the communal street cat sitting on the coffee table, "Jesus, does she ever give you a break?"

I sighed. We both knew the answer to that.

"Did you let The Chancellor in this morning? I didn't realise he was here." I asked, gesturing to the fluffy tomcat currently demanding love and affection from my hand.

"No, somebody must have let him into the block last night. He was crying loudly outside our door at like 2am this morning. I thought I'd better quickly bring him in before somebody kicked him or something." Octavia crooned over him, scratching his ears lovingly, "I couldn't just leave you out there could I, Mr Chancellor?"

I laughed, heading into the kitchen to prepare him some food.

He wasn't our cat.

I didn't think he even had a home really. He'd just one day followed me into the apartment and refused to leave until I gave him milk. From that point on, he'd been a regular visitor. We had to keep him on the down-low, because animals were a strict no-no in this building.

It was Octavia who'd nicknamed him The Chancellor. He was such a regal looking cat, and so expectant of our devotion, it was impossible to call him anything else.

I'd suggested Mr Tinkles, but he didn't seem to respond to it as well as Chancellor. So, that had just ended up sticking.

I set him some leftover meat out in his special Chancellor-reserved saucer, and he elegantly leapt from the coffee table, partaking of his meal with grateful enthusiasm.

"Tea." I informed Octavia, placing her a mug down on the table as I dropped onto the sofa with my own life-saving beverage.

"Thanks, Griffin." She sat on the other end of the sofa, kicking her legs up onto the table, "So, when can we have another wild night out?"

"Whenever I'm not busy being a slave to my mother's hospital."

"Oh, never then." Octavia leaned further back into the cushions, "Which is a shame… because I bet you're dying to get your mysterious club-pimp fix."

"I saw her. At the hospital." I commented, sipping my tea, "Only, you can't tell anybody. Patient confidentiality and all."

"She was a patient?" Octavia raised her eyebrows in shock, as though that thought was too impossibly out of anybody's imagination to reach.

I shook my head, "No. That bouncer I rodded got stabbed. I had to resuscitate him. It was the most stressful shift I've ever worked."

"Oh, shit." Octavia remarked, bluntly, "Did you screw her in one of the clinic rooms?"

"I wanted to when she called me Dr Griffin." I offered her a wicked smirk, "No. Even if I'd have vaguely wanted to have sex with her and had the time to do so, I was too tired to even know my own name by the end of the night. I wouldn't have performed."

"Pity. That would've been a scandal to tell wouldn't it, Chancellor?" She grinned at the tomcat as he pounced up on the sofa to sit between us.

I finished off my tea and scratched his head, "Are you letting him out?"

"Yeah." She nodded, scooping him up into her arms and carrying him over to the door, "Come on, Mr."

She disappeared out onto the corridor and I took our empty mugs back into the kitchen to wash up.

I blamed Octavia for the current images flashing through my head.

Part of me felt ashamed even admitting that the thought of taking my austere club-owner at the hospital did things to me.

The other part of me revelled in it.

 **A/N: Hopefully, I've set some context to the story. I have completed the next couple of chapters, but I will need to run through and edit them before posting them. Please let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading.**

 **Lady Of Cythera**

 **xox**


	3. Distract Me

**A/N: Kind of a short chapter, but I hope the content is substantial enough. Read, and enjoy. Please let me know what you think. Thank you.**

 **xox**

 _It will just be for a couple of hours,_ she said. _Then you can go home and enjoy the rest of your day off,_ she said.

When my mother professed I would be covering one of the other junior doctors for a 'just a couple of hours' at the most, I should've realised that three and a half hours later I wasn't going to be leaving any time soon.

I'd been loaned out to the depot clinic on the psychiatric ward to cover somebody's lunch break. What was a lunch break, again?

I quite enjoyed the psychiatric unit – it was out of the way from the rest of the hospital, located on the top floor. Some of the patients were a lot more fun to talk to; it wasn't like the stereotypical 'everybody's in danger here' vibe that some people misperceived psychiatry to be.

After all, we were all a little crazy.

Well, at least I knew I was.

I removed the needle from the patient's right buttock and pressed a plaster over the pinprick, "And you're good to go."

He thanked me and headed back out onto the ward at around the same time the other staff member returned, "Thanks, Dr Griffin. We were pretty desperate for cover."

I smiled and rose to my feet, tossing the gloves in the bin, "Don't mention it. I'll see you later."

I headed over to the doors, swiping my card over the scanner to unlock them at around about the same time a woman came charging towards me, her panic-stricken face fixed on mine, "Let me through!" She yelled.

I spun around just in time for her to crash into my ribs.

Crunch.

 _Oh, bollocks_.

…

…

"Could you tell me where Dr Griffin is?" I rested my fingertips on the reception desk, drumming them lightly against the surface.

The young woman observed me for a moment before she fixed her attention on the computer screen, biting her lip gently, "Dr Abby Griffin… she's in surgery at the moment. She probably won't be out for another 2 hours. Do you have an appointment?"

Abby?

"Actually, it's Clarke Griffin I'm looking for."

Enlightenment fell across the receptionist's face and she nodded, "Right. The junior. Sure… give me a moment. It's not the first time they've been confused. That's the problem with working with your mom, I guess." She laughed, "Okay, she's on the psychiatric unit… the top floor… but unless you have an appointment, you won't be allowed in there. There's a waiting room just outside the ward though. Is she expecting you?"

"Thanks." I replied, ignoring her question and turning away to follow the signs to the stairs.

So, Clarke worked with her mother.

The more I learned about her, the more she fascinated me.

I couldn't help but wonder whether working with her mother would be something she'd resent, or love. Something told me the former would be the more likely option.

After hiking my way around the hospital, I eventually found said waiting room outside the ward, and took my stance against the wall. I would wait.

She had to come out eventually.

" _Let me through!_ "

I snapped my head over to the doors leading onto the ward along with every other individual in the room.

That was when I heard the impact resembling two bodies colliding.

A hand flailed out from the door, and I half expected to see a human follow and tumble onto the ground. But I didn't. I saw the blonde junior doctor fall back a step, but keep her balance, her hand clasping reflexively around the door handle.

Impressive.

" _I said let me through!_ " I could hear the voice of another woman, but I couldn't see her face due to the door blocking my vision.

I watched Clarke intently, waiting for her to either shout for help or crumble under the confrontation.

Intriguingly, she simply held her ground, "Hey, slow down a minute. Tell me what's wrong." She spoke, her tone surprisingly smooth considering she'd just been walloped.

" _I need a doctor! Somebody call the police!_ " I saw a pair of hands reach forwards and grip onto Clarke's uniform top in effort to move her out the way.

"Well, luckily I'm a doctor. See? There's my ID." Clarke continued to speak in a soothing, yet reasonable manner. She wasn't moving.

" _Thank God. You need to help me._ "

The blonde junior inclined her head as the rest of us watched in terse anticipation, "That's what I'm here for. Can you tell me what you need help with?" She asked, her composure remaining absolute.

She could have almost given me a run for my money.

" _They've inserted a fucking chip into my brain. I need you to get it out for me._ "

Clarke seemed to consider this statement very carefully. Surely she was going to tell the woman there was nothing there and to get back onto the ward, right?

"Are you experiencing pain?" She asked.

" _Are you shitting me? Of_ course _I am! I've just had a chip shoved into my head. Right there, look_."

Clarke nodded her head, "Can you describe the pain for me? Like is it a stabbing pain… or throbbing? Or more of an ache?"

" _It's like a throbbing… and an ache. All at the same time. Can you take it out? Please, doctor!_ "

"Did you see them put the chip in?"

The woman gave an exasperated groan, " _No. They obviously did it while I was sleeping_. _They've been after my thoughts for months now. But it's sending my vision funny. I can't see properly._ "

"Okay, well before I can operate, I need to do a brain scan so I can see where the problem is or if it's definitely a chip, or if it's something else." I commended her ability at keeping so level-headed.

" _Well, what else could it possibly be?_ " She demanded.

"That's what we'd need to check… Look, if you come back onto the ward, I can speak to the nurses and see if we can get you a CT scan booked in as soon as possible. How does that sound?"

There was a hesitation before a male's voice spoke from the other side of the door, " _Come on, Marie. We'll get you booked in and see what's causing the pain, okay…? Thank you, Dr Griffin._ "

"No problem." She smiled and moved her hand to her ribs once the door had secured itself shut.

She took a deep breath, but I knew her oxygen fix would be short lived.

Her eyes drifted up and locked on mine.

I straightened my jaw and took a few steps forwards, "Do you have a minute?"

She nodded her head sharply, her hand still clutching her side as she led me from the waiting room out onto the corridor.

Her eyes demanded the reason behind my presence without needing to open her mouth.

"You handled that well." I began.

"Uh-huh." She muttered, the discomfort of her pain evident in her expression.

"You're good… with people, I mean."

She just raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to get to the point.

 _Fine_.

Small talk had never been my thing. Neither had compliments.

But I think I'd made that pretty obvious already.

"When do you get off work?"

Clarke sent me a distasteful expression, "God fucking knows. Not soon enough. Why?"

"I need a distraction." I told her plainly.

"Right, and what makes you think I can give you one?"

Something told me that she was going to be far more of a challenge to break when sober. Although that was a foreign (and slightly frustrating) concept for me, it simply made me want to do it all the more.

I quirked an eyebrow, "I know you can, Dr Griffin."

Her jaw slackened. It took everything I had not to smirk at the way she visibly fought away her body's natural reaction to my words.

She inched forwards a step, "Yeah? Well, if you want me to distract you, you're going to have to try harder. You get nothing from me without a little sacrifice… and saying my title in that sinful way isn't going to get you any further either."

"You know I'd return the favour." I said softly as her eyes fell briefly to my lips.

"Oh, I know that." She returned her gaze to mine, moving closer still, "But unfortunately…" Her tone dropped a level, her words leaving her throat in a husky whisper, "…we both know you enjoy making me come too much for it to be considered a sacrifice."

Her words tightened the tension in my stomach and I suddenly became slave to her smirk.

"If you want me again, you're going to have to work for it." She continued, nonchalantly shrugging a shoulder.

"How?" My response was quicker than I intended and it made her lips pull upwards into a diabolical smile.

 _Minx_.

"You're smart… and resourceful… I'm sure you can figure it out." She straightened up to turn away but I caught her wrist.

"Then tell me when you get off work."

She tore her hand from mine, not with ease, but with force.

She wasn't going to tell me.

If there was one thing I hated more than anything else, it was being denied of the things I wanted. The things I desired.

As I watched her walk away, her hips swaying with familiar confidence, the realisation hit me.

Clarke knew that. She knew me.

She'd asked me nothing about myself, and she was completely uninformed about who I really was.

But she knew me.

I'd thought I was a step ahead, picking up pieces of her personal life; her name, where she worked, what she studied, the fact that she worked alongside her mother…

But she'd needed none of that to figure me out. Now she was using it against me exactly the way I would've used it against her.

So, was that what she'd wanted from me? She wanted me to sacrifice the expectation that I would undoubtedly get to taste her again? She wanted to be chased.

I ran my tongue over my teeth.

I hated games.

But the only way I could get Clarke was to play.

…

…

I wanted her.

 _God_.

I wanted her bad.

In carnal measures.

But, that scared me. The only way I could protect myself was to see her cave first, or–

"–Clarke, for god's sake. Are those cigarettes?"

I glanced up to my mother who was currently checking over the bruises blossoming on my ribs where I'd been charged into.

"What?" I followed her line of vision to my handbag where the packet of cigarettes poked out of the front pocket, "Oh, yeah. Anyway, are we done here? I told you I was fine."

"You know I don't condone smoking – especially as you're a health professional!" She was eyeing me with that stiflingly overprotective stare only mothers could conduct.

I shrugged and pushed down my top, reaching into my bag and plucking a single cigarette from the packet, "Oh, sue me." I muttered, ducking out from her hands, "I'm going home."

"Clarke, wait. Can you just–"

"–Thanks for checking me over. But there's nothing that can be done about broken ribs." I shut the door to her clinic room behind me, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I reached for my lighter. The second I walked through the doors to the car park, I lit the end of the cigarette, tossing my ponytail over my shoulder.

I questioned myself about the smoking thing enough without my mother getting on my case about it as well. But the fact I knew it pissed her off just made me want to do it all the more.

I took a drag, tilting my head back against the wall and closing my eyes, shutting out the twilight. It was a brief release; a distraction.

Ha. There was a healthier distraction I could've pursued.

But I wasn't sure it was less detrimental to my overall health.

My stranger wanted me too.

She wasn't afraid of admitting that.

I wasn't sure why I was turning her down exactly.

Out of stubbornness.

Out of self-denial.

"The epitome of health promotion."

I peeled my eyes open, instantly settling them on the pale green stare I knew would be in front of me. She had a knack for finding me today it seemed…

"That's me." I shrugged, tapping away the ash.

I'd been under too much pressure in the past hour to return the banter.

"Should you be smoking on the hospital grounds?" The austere club-owner arched a slim eyebrow, her eyes as characteristically empty as usual.

"Honestly, I shouldn't be smoking at all." I cleared my throat and straightened up, "How's Gustus?"

"He still hasn't woken up."

I hesitated before I sighing, "I'm sorry."

My stranger was silent for a moment before she shifted her gaze to the floor, "Clarke… I've been thinking about what you said."

She was a woman of few words, so I got the feeling what she was about to disclose was going to be more than just a little uncomfortable for her. This gave me a sadistic sense of pleasure.

"I want you. You know I do." She spoke the words with such conviction it made me draw my lip under my teeth. She was different because she was direct. With the rawest of intent. "But, as you've guessed, I'm… I'm not used to being made to wait for the things I want. I think I know what you want me to do. I just… don't know how to do it."

She wore her vulnerability well, even if she didn't know she was wearing it. Sure, her eyes were still steely, her expression still stony, but her tone was unsteady. Hesitant.

It was the first time I'd seen her second-guess herself.

"Tell me your name."

The words had left my mouth without permission. I'd wanted so bad to keep her anonymity. But for some reason, my instincts betrayed me.

I was annoyed with myself. Once you gave something a name, you got attached to it. Half of me hoped she'd use a pseudo.

She almost blinked, before her face corrected itself, "Lexa."

 _Lexa_.

I'd regretted asking her almost instantly. Why couldn't she just have had a different name? Something less appealing like… Leonard.

"Is that your stripper name? It sounds like a stripper name." I sent her an unwelcome smirk, knowing before I did it that she would hate me for it.

Her expression remained unchanged, "No."

"Okay, Lexa…" I took another drag of my cigarette, letting it hang between my fingertips after withdrawing it from my mouth, "… Tell me why you want me. Is it because I'm the nearest available pair of legs? Or is it because you've already had me, so you think it's easy to get me again? A quick fix?"

"You think I find this easy, Clarke?"

Flash.

Her eyes flashed.

I could feel the burn of her passion in my throat. It was brief, but it was there.

"No. I don't. But I like the way it makes you sweat." I countered, stubbing my cigarette out on the bricks behind me, letting the remains crumble to the gravel.

Lexa's lips set into a hard line and she took a step forwards, the fuel of fire lighting in her eyes, "And what am I sweating for, Clarke?"

The unintended pout of her lips drew my attention to her mouth and I mirrored her stride, the thick tension binding the narrow distance between us.

"You're sweating because I want you to. I want you to know how it feels to want something so bad, it makes you weak." The words were tumbling from my mouth, the heat of her stare threatening my self-control. But I couldn't stop myself.

"Do I make _you_ weak?" She quipped, keeping her pale glower immobile on my face.

Before I could reason my way out of it, I'd grabbed her hip and spun her around, pushing her back up against the wall, my body caging hers to the bricks.

"No. You make me feel."

There was a blinding moment of throbbing silence, the dirty light of dusk haunting her eyes, before I kissed her.

I kissed her deeply, tasting the longing on her tongue, willing her to taste me back.

Lexa's hand tangled into my hair, pulling at my locks harshly, and her teeth clamped down hard on my lip, tearing at the flesh as her back arched away from the wall.

The fight of her kiss begged the question: _Have I sacrificed enough yet?_

The thought of breaking away from her mouth was pushed so far away into the back of my mind it took the horrified beckon of my name to slap me back into reality.

"Clarke?!"

Lexa shoved me back a step automatically, pulling her eyes from my face as the recognition of my mother's tone left me stunned.

She was clutching her bag to her side, her eyes vast with shock. She couldn't seem to form the next part of her sentence.

My hand unwittingly moved to wipe my lips as I met her wide stare.

"What… what is this? What are you doing?"

Avoiding stating the obvious, I just let my arms hang by my side, "Unwinding."

"Do you think you could unwind in a way that doesn't involve breaking professional codes?" She was pissed off. Not just because I was edging boundaries, but because I was kissing a girl.

I knew she wasn't homophobic; she was generally pretty liberal on all fronts despite the way she'd been brought up. I guessed she was just angry I hadn't told her men weren't my only interest.

It probably made her feel like she wasn't as good a mother as she'd hoped.

"Clarke, get in your car and go home."

"Is that the doctor's order, Dr Griffin?" I asked, sarcastically, "Or my mother's?"

I knew I was making it worse.

"This is unacceptable, Clarke. You're one step closer to ruining everything for yourself! Not everybody gets a second chance like you!"

This wasn't just about me kissing a girl anymore.

But, I wasn't going to do what she told me either.

"And you remind me of it every goddamn day." I hissed, refusing to listen anymore.

"Don't do this to me, Clarke."

I turned my face to Lexa.

Her expression was unreadable, even though her breast still heaved from the fervour of our kiss. She was looking at me, waiting for me to say, or do, something.

But I couldn't. My mind was still in overdrive.

Lexa stepped in to take the control back easily, her hand sliding into mine. Silently, she pulled me away from the wall, leading me through the carpark.

"Clarke, please! Wait!" I could hear my mother's shouts, but I didn't turn around.

Numbly, I followed Lexa, saying nothing.

 _Keep walking. Don't stop._

She slowed to a halt outside a satin black car, turning towards me, "What do you want to do, Clarke?" She asked quietly.

 _What are my options?_

I hated myself for my incapability. Why couldn't I speak? Why had I relented my power so quickly?

"Do you want to get in? Or do you want to leave?"

 _I don't know._

She unlocked her car and opened the passenger door, "It's okay. This doesn't have to mean anything."

I nodded and released her hand, sliding into the comforts of the fresh leather as Lexa shut the door behind me. I envied her discipline and the way she'd so naturally regained it, even after I'd broken it. She eased into the seat beside me, setting the key in the ignition and letting the soft hum of the engine roll as she reversed out of her parking space.

She drove in perfect reflection of her character; moving quickly, but with unyielding certainty. I didn't even know where we were going.

Eventually, she pulled into some empty parking lot probably in the middle of nowhere, and tilted her head to face me.

"I don't want to talk about it." I cut in before she could speak.

"I wasn't going to ask you to."

A sigh left my lips and I leaned into the door, angling my body towards hers, "What are we doing?"

"That entirely depends on what you want to do."

I didn't know.

"Look, I'm not asking anything of you, Clarke. We barely know each other, and I know this isn't personal for you… being with me. But if you want to go home, I can drive you there. Or if you want to…" She trailed away, the rare ambiguity returning to her tone.

Part of me didn't want to be alone, because I knew I'd make a stupid decision and do something to myself I'd regret.

My mother and I didn't have a good relationship. We hadn't for a long time. But I couldn't pretend it didn't affect me, because it did. Deeply.

Now that was well out in the open.

 _If I want to what?_

After a moment, Lexa continued, her tone guarded once again, "If you want to forget, I can facilitate that too."

 _So goddamn formal_.

"In the car you mean?"

 _And then drive me home afterwards?_

That wouldn't help me forget, it would just put off thinking about my twisted familial ties.

"Wherever you want." Lexa told me softly.

I could hardly believe the turn of the evening. We'd gone from almost ripping each other's clothes off in public, to sitting in melancholy indecision in the middle of nowhere.

I didn't even know her. Not really. I mean, sure, we'd fucked in a night of drunken haze.

Hot haze.

But still… why was I considering letting her be the one to help me forget?

I pushed away the thought, "I need to go home."

Lexa nodded without hesitation and started up the car once again, "Address?"

I filled her in and rested my head against the window, tiredly.

I hoped Octavia was in – I wasn't sure I trusted myself to be alone.

The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable. We both had things on our mind.

Lexa's phone rang through the speakers in the car and she glanced at the screen on the dashboard; Indra.

"I'm sorry, Clarke… do you mind if I take this?"

Shaking my head, I glanced over to her, "Only if you don't mind me overhearing it. I'll try not to listen."

I knew it must have been important; I would've expected her to ignore the call if it was anything less than an absolute priority.

"Hello?"

" _Are you still at the hospital?_ "

Lexa switched gear, her eyes fixed on the road, "No. I was going to call you when I got home."

 _After she'd fucked me._

The woman on the other end of the call sounded stressed, " _How is he? We're all worried_."

"No change. He has his own room. I can message you the details if you want to visit." Lexa was keeping her tone even, "Any more news on the suspect?"

" _They have the wrong man in custody. But Niko has an idea who he thinks did it. He doesn't have a name yet… but he thinks the attacker was after you. Gustus must have recognised him… and that's when he got jumped. When Gustus wakes up, I'm sure he'll be able to give some insight._ "

Lexa said nothing for a few seconds, until she eventually opened her mouth, "If he wakes up, Indra, there's no telling he'll remember."

" _We have to hope he will. He wouldn't leave you. He's too loyal for that_."

"Unfortunately, loyalty won't change the state of his health." She'd said it factually, but I knew she was affected by it. I couldn't help but feel a little guilty for letting a petty argument with my mother seem like the worst thing to have happened.

" _Well, I suppose all we can do is wait. In the meantime, please be careful. The attacker is still out there. He'll still be looking for you and we don't know if he was alone or not_."

Lexa was unperturbed by the comment, "I'll be fine. I can look after myself."

" _So could Gustus but look where he is._ " Indra must have realised her remark was a little out of line by Lexa's silence," _Just… avoid your clubs for a while. We have it covered. The police is on hyper-alert anyway. We'll be tightening security and reopening as soon as we get the all clear._ "

Clubs – multiple. I should've realised she wasn't just in charge of one.

"Thank you, Indra. I'll speak to you later." Lexa slowed up outside my apartment, ending the call as I glanced around for Octavia's car.

It wasn't there.

"I tried not to listen." I said quietly, but my stranger just regarded me steadily, "But it was hard not to… You're in danger, aren't you?"

She kept her eyes on mine, "It's nothing to worry about, Clarke."

"I don't want to have to resuscitate you too." It was a pathetic comment, but it was all I could think to say.

Lexa raised an eyebrow, although I could still see the tension ebbing away at her eyes, "You're sure you don't like the idea of giving me mouth-to-mouth?"

"I'd rather give it to you while you're alive."

For the first time, I saw her smile. Just from one corner of her lips.

Somehow, I found it as unnerving as it was graceful. It was subtle, but it still unhinged my chest, leaving me a little short of breath.

"Careful, Clarke. It almost sounds like you care." Her tone was low, teasing. Even though she'd just learned somebody (maybe multiple somebodies) wanted her dead, she remained calm.

I managed a weak scoff at her words and rolled my eyes, "Well, we can't have that, can we?"

Lexa said nothing; I assumed she was waiting for me to make a move out of her car, but I struggled.

"Lexa…" I murmured, watching the way her eyes drop to my lips as I spoke her name, "… will you tell me what _you_ want?"

She kept one hand curled around the steering wheel as she surveyed me, "You know what I want, Clarke."

She'd taken a step back when I wanted to take charge, she'd regained the lead when I couldn't, and she'd pushed her own wants aside just to make sure I was okay. Without deliberation.

And she as good as had a bounty on her head.

She wanted a distraction.

She wanted to forget, like I did.

Lexa deserved to get what she wanted.

"Then come inside." I said quietly.

Lexa tilted her head to one side, "I thought you wanted to be alone."

I hesitated, watching the suppressed desire creeping back into her eyes, "No. I want us both to forget."


	4. Forgetting

"No. I want us both to forget."

At first, I'd vaguely toyed with the idea of refusing. Clarke wanted me to make a sacrifice. If I refused, I would be sacrificing something I'd been aching for over the past couple of weeks. Did she want me to go that far?

But not even I had that level of self-restraint.

I knew it was probably a bad idea to consent, but I wanted her selfishly.

Flickering my gaze over her face for a moment, I tried to read the slightest hint of doubt on her features.

But there was nothing. Simple determination to forget.

I nodded and pulled the keys from the ignition, following her out of the car.

"It's… It's nothing special. My flat, I mean. It's pretty basic. It has a decent view of the city though."

 _I'm not here to look out your window, Clarke._

I said nothing.

The flat didn't matter.

She led me up two flights of stairs, pausing outside a blue painted door as she scrambled for her house keys.

"Clarke, a cat followed you inside."

I wasn't a fan of animals. I had no prejudice against them. But cats in particular irritated me. Perhaps it was because I could relate to them too easily.

She turned and scooped up the fluffy tomcat in her arms, "I suppose you're hungry aren't you, Chancellor?"

"He's yours?" I raised an eyebrow, finding the image of Clarke displaying affection to any living thing somewhat amusing.

"No, he's homeless." She stepped inside, holding the door open for me to follow her in, "He adopted us."

I assumed she must have been referring to herself and her absent housemate.

"Could you give me a minute while I feed him?" She asked, setting him down. He flicked his tail and turned his green eyed stare onto me, deciding whether I was a threat or a friend.

I took a moment to survey the flat – it was quirkier than I expected; open plan and fresh, full of homely items like scented candles and photographs. She was right though. The view was quite spectacular, looking out onto the city lights.

It was nothing like my own place; and perhaps that was why I liked it.

My house was sleekly decorated, but colder and less sentimental. I think the only thing the two places had in common were the candles.

I watched Clarke in utter silence.

How had I seen so many sides to her in one day? How had I gone from wanting to fuck her up against the wall of the hospital to wanting to comfort her… and then back to wanting to fuck her again?

It didn't scare me. I knew none of it mattered to her. She didn't want to make this personal, and I was no good with getting attached either. She was using me as much as I was using her.

Only, she made it difficult not to let me see her for who she was.

It was only when I was standing inches behind her that I'd realised I had been walking towards her, such was the pull of desire to get inside her again.

"Do you want a drink, or–" She cut herself off with a gentle gasp as she turned, finding me standing directly in front of her.

Her susceptibility to my invasive presence was too enticing to neglect.

I slid my hands to her hips, pushing her back up against the counter, the lustful animal in my chest growling in pleasure at the way her breath left her lips from the impact. I caught her lips in an open-mouthed kiss, my thumb running over her hipbone lightly.

Once she'd dispelled the surprise of my kiss, she returned it vigorously, her palms pressing flat against my stomach.

My mouth hungrily sought her tongue, coaxing the passion out of her I knew she possessed. The heat of our mouths was stifling. But I craved more. Her hand slid upwards over my breast, taking her fill between her fingers before she continued moving it to cup my throat – it was the shell of a chokehold, yet she applied little pressure.

She was letting me know I was exposed. She could have constricted her hand, but she didn't.

The throbbing ache in my stomach tightened at her subtle power play, my animal clawing its way to my chest.

 _Play the game_.

I moved my throat further into her hand, taking her lower lip between my teeth.

 _Do it. Choke me. If you dare._

Her fingers flexed, shutting off my windpipe for no more than three seconds; she dared. She was letting me know she wasn't afraid.

She knew how to play.

I dropped my hands, curling them around Clarke's rear and hoisting her upwards, shoving her backwards onto the counter. I settled myself between her legs, my arms resting along her thighs. I was taller than her by a couple of inches or so which meant I had no issue with tilting my head up to reach her lips.

I wanted to fuck her right here. On the counter.

As I broke away for a brief (but required) breath, she read my intent. She willed me further, her hand cramming into my hair, jerking at it hard.

"Take your clothes off." She urged, the husk of her voice impossible to defy, "Or I will."

I raised an eyebrow, sliding my thumb between her legs and pressing hard against her for a moment, knowing it would remind her who was really in charge right now.

The sharpness of her breath indicated my message had been received.

"Take yours off." I commanded softly, unbuttoning her trousers.

When I didn't relent my stare, she narrowed her eyes, "Take them off for me."

"That's not a punishment." I informed her, tucking my fingers beneath her waistband and pulling them downwards. The counter did make it a little tricky, but I'd done this before, "Lift this up." I instructed, my fingers striking against the side of her rear.

Clarke supported herself on her hands, raising her hips so I could whip the offending article off her legs. Luckily, they weren't skinny tight trousers, so it made the procedure all too easy. I let my nails graze over her thighs before they found the hem of her top; that was quickly discarded to the floor too.

She glared at me hard, even as I flipped the clasp of her bra, letting it spring loose and hang from her shoulders uselessly.

"Now yours." She waited in expectation.

I supposed it was only fair.

I took a step back and relieved my torso from its clothing, flinging it alongside Clarke's and unfastening the buttons on my high-waist jeans.

 _I'll leave the rest for you when you return the favour_.

But that seemed out of the question for Clarke.

"I want to see you." Her request was gentler than I'm sure she intended, and perhaps that was why I hesitated by her lips. Why was my body responding to the softness of her voice? Maybe because I wasn't used to it.

I gave a short nod as she leaned forwards, her fingertips brushing over my spine, equalling my expertise in unclipping the fastener. Her hand tore it off my breast and dropped it to the floor. She was content mapping out my upper anatomy for a few moments, biting her lip in satisfaction, "And your jeans."

Obediently, I rolled them down my thighs, kicking them to the side.

Clarke glanced me up and down, seeming to appreciate my entirely naked form – aside from my underwear.

But I'd had enough of waiting. I shoved her thighs further apart, keeping my eyes on hers as I pushed my fingers between her legs, finding her lips once more.

I could feel her unharnessed whimpers pouring into my mouth, intensifying with each movement.

Her body was ready for me well before I gave it to her, and it made coaxing the pleasure out of her that much more satiating.

She was close.

I kept moving until I felt her tremble violently around me. But her audible emissions of prolonged gratification were quickly replaced with sounds of pain. I stopped immediately, pulling back to assess her.

"Fuck!" She breathed, her body still quivering as her hand flew to her ribs.

Oh. Of course. I'd forgotten about that incident.

I reached forwards instinctively, moving her hand away from her side to see obvious bruising shadowing her skin. How had this bypassed my attention? I supposed I was preoccupied with other parts of her to notice… but I was still annoyed at myself for failing to see this.

She must have seen my expression change, for she shook her head, "No, I'm okay. I'm fine." She panted, leaning her weight on her hand.

"Clarke, why didn't you say if I was hurting you?" I demanded. I was angry.

"You weren't! I couldn't feel it until…. Until after I finished." She told me, "My body was too busy feeling other things to notice…"

I glowered at her briefly, "They're broken, aren't they?"

"They're fine." She rejected my concern and leaned forwards, "Besides… it was worth it."

It didn't settle me. I didn't mind inflicting pain when I had control over how much I was giving… and when my partner wanted it. But, I didn't like causing it unintentionally. Or in such intense measures. My expression must have betrayed me because she shook her head and leaned forwards, opening her mouth to speak. Right before the sound of a key turning in the lock of the door interrupted her. She rested her hands on my shoulders, leaping down from the counter and grabbing my arm, yanking me down the corridor with such force, I almost lost balance.

She shoved open a polished door and dragged me into the room concealed behind, pushing it to – but not so it was completely closed.

"Don't say a word." She enforced the command with such ferocity, I wouldn't have even considered ignoring it.

All I could do was stare at her naked body, and her at mine.

…

…

I pushed away the pounding pain in my ribs, my hand still clasped around Lexa's wrist. She said nothing as usual and kept her eyes on me.

I knew she was feeling guilty in her own messed up way, but I wasn't going to acknowledge that right then… because I was thinking about the abandoned clothes by the kitchen counter.

" _Hello, baby boy… Did Clarke let you in, hm?_ " Octavia was fussing over The Chancellor, " _Oh, you are so regal… yes, you are._ "

There was a brief silence as I heard the sound of the kettle boil, before Octavia suddenly exclaimed, " _Clarke! You've left your clothes on the…_ " She trailed away. She must have seen the second bra… Or the worn underwear, " _Oh, for fuck's sake, Griffin! Jesus! Holy Christ! Really?_ "

"Get under the quilt."I pointed to the bed, "Now."

Lexa raised an eyebrow, but did as I'd said, covering herself completely.

She had no idea Octavia would surge into the room in her fury, regardless of who was presently naked or not. Octavia and I had been friends for way too long to care about seeing each other in the nude… but I wasn't sure how my stranger would feel about getting burst in on. I reached for a scrunched up boys top on the floor – I'd had it a while and wore it out of comfort instead of sentimentality of the male it used to belong to.

It dropped to my mid-thighs just as Octavia kicked open the door, "Clarke Griffin, you disgust me! I swear to God… If you did it on the kitchen side… Fuck, you did, didn't you? I make _food_ on that counter! You and Niylah – or whoever the fuck it is you have hiding in your bed can remove those articles of clothing from the floor immediately!"

"I thought you were at Lincoln's!" I defended myself, although my argument was weak.

"Clearly I'm not, am I?! We had another goddamn argument. I do _not_ need this right now!"

I narrowed my eyes – she was way overreacting. I'd walked in on her doing worse.

"Yeah, like you've never banged Lincoln on my coffee table… which was a gift by the way! I didn't yell at you did I?" I countered, squaring my shoulders out.

"No, but you made me wipe it down with bleach seventeen times!"

She was taking her stress out on me, and it wasn't necessary. Okay, it was slightly necessary. But still…

"I picked your underwear up with my hands! My _bare_ hands, Griffin!" She continued, her face overtaken with rage, "They were still fucking _warm_! Jesus, I could vomit on your carpet right now! I am going nowhere near that kitchen until you clean every inch of it three times over! Who knows what diseases you're carrying?"

"Oh, I'm all clear and you damn well know it, Octavia Blake! And if I'm not, you're going to be the first person I wipe all my diseases on!" We usually got pretty dramatic in our arguments, but I knew we'd be over it as soon as we'd had five minutes to ourselves. We never stayed pissed off at each other for long.

"You sicken me, Griffin. Clean it all up and move those goddamn clothes out of my sight, you dirty whore…" She growled, stalking away from my bedroom and slamming her own door behind her.

"Takes one to know one, asshole!" I yelled childishly.

" _Real mature, dick-wad!_ "

"Cock-sucking peasant!"

There was a silence as I strode from the bedroom, grabbing the bleach from the cupboard under the sink and wiping the kitchen side down until it was immaculate. Simply to appease my housemate, I cleaned it again.

And again.

"Clean!" I shouted, "Three times over as requested, your majesty!" I tacked on the end, collecting the clothes and striding back into my room, closing the door firmly behind me. Lexa was laying against the pillows, the quilt tucked under her arms to keep the rest of her covered.

I couldn't work out if she looked amused, surprised, or simply complacent.

Either way, she said nothing, but just regarded me with her eyebrows raised.

Either way, I knew I had to have her.

"Don't talk." I muttered, tossing the clothes onto the floor and walking to the foot of the bed, lifting up the quilt. I ducked my head underneath and began to crawl along the mattress, disappearing from her view. I moved between her legs, reaching out for her hips in the darkness. As soon as my fingers landed on the lace, I began to slide them down her thighs, pushing them the rest of the way with my foot.

"Clarke…" Lexa murmured, but I ignored her, my lips trailing over her stomach.

"Clarke." She said again, but with pressured severity. I raised my head upwards, the quilt still hanging off me as I locked my gaze darkly onto hers.

"What?"

 _There'd better be a good reason you're stopping me._

"Your ribs." She said quietly, "Don't do this."

"Don't test me." I warned her, my hand falling between her legs.

Her head tilted back marginally, a soft moan leaving her mouth. Good.

Just as I was about to return to my desired location, she caught my arm, "No."

"I'm doing this so you'd better shut your mouth and let me, Lexa. I'm fine."

I could see her reservations by the way she rested her teeth over her lip, but she nodded her head once she realised I would feel worse off if I didn't return the favour.

And I did return the favour.

She came as quietly as she could, stifling her cries by biting down hard on my pillow.

It was the sexiest image I'd seen all week.

I gave her time to recover, rolling onto my back to rest my hand on my heaving ribs.

We lay there with the distance between us in silence.

Neither of us spoke for a moment, until Lexa pulled herself upright, heading over to the pile of clothes to sift out her items.

I watched her. Of course she would leave. The way I'd left her when we'd fucked last time.

Besides which… we'd exposed too much vulnerability today to continue the charade much longer before it became uncomfortable. And I wasn't talking about exposing our bodies. _This is a casual thing_ , I continued to remind myself.

I pushed back the duvet, going to fetch my underwear. It felt too precariously breezy wearing a top with no pants.

Once she'd dressed herself, she went to open the bedroom door, smoothing out her hair and straightening her spine; I didn't understand how she managed to look so collected post-copulation. My hair was probably everywhere, my makeup smudged, and my cheeks red.

She didn't bother looking at me as she stepped out onto the corridor, moving towards the large living space of the apartment.

I followed her, hoping to God Octavia had shut herself off in her room.

She hadn't.

Her eyes flickered up from the television and landed on Lexa. Instantly, the pissy expression she'd been wearing just seconds before morphed into that of utter surprise. If I wasn't despising the current circumstance so vehemently, I probably would have found it amusing.

Her eyes followed Lexa, her mouth agape, right up until the point she left the apartment.

My stranger sent me one final glance from the other side of the threshold, and I couldn't help but wonder if I would see her again. Automatically, I sent her a small half-apologetic, half-awkward smile. For the second time ever, she smiled back – just slightly – before she walked away.

The second the door closed, Octavia sat up straight, " _What_ the hell, Griffin? Was that… it wasn't… was it?"

I rolled my eyes, going to flip the kettle on, "Yes, it was."

She clapped a hand over her mouth, "You little…! Oh, my god! When did _that_ happen?"

"About half an hour before you burst in on us in all your fiery rage…" I muttered, pouring us both a cup of tea, stirring in the milk and sugar.

"A well-deserved interruption. But seriously… tell me _everything_." She ordered as I set her mug down on the coffee table, dropping onto the sofa.

"Everything except the bit involving the kitchen side, you mean?" I raised an eyebrow, looking over at her with a small smirk.

"You can eliminate that part of the story, yes, unless you want vomit all over the floor." She returned, sipping at her tea.

I explained the events of my day, polishing every bit of detail I could aside from the part about Lexa having a bounty on her head, quite enjoying the effect it had on Octavia's facial expressions. She offered her input every so often: "Jesus, I can't keep up with your mother", "Oh, my god. I can't believe you said that!", and "You still managed to do all that with broken ribs?"

I leaned back, shrugging a shoulder.

Octavia creased her eyebrows, "You know there's no way this can be kept as a no-strings-attached fling, right?"

I clicked my tongue, "Yeah, right. Like I have time for it to be anything else. Like I'd even want it to be."

My housemate shook her head, "Clarke… she saw you de-escalate a very distressed patient who had just broken your ribs, which must have been a pretty impressive spectacle… she saw you argue with your mother… she drove you away from the scene and then offered to bring you straight home _without expecting sex_ , may I add… she witnessed us spit fire at each other… not to mention, she let you take control when there's no way she would've done that for just any old bang… on top of that, she tried to stop you from getting her off because of your ribs… _and_ I saw you smile at her before she left."

"So what?" I rolled my eyes, "It doesn't mean anything. She just did all that to keep on the right side of me. It's how booty calls work. Act like a saint, and you get the rewards of heaven."

"She's into you." Octavia smirked.

"Quite literally." I commented, "Anyway. Tell me what happened with you and Lincoln."

She groaned and took another drink from her mug, "It's just petty. It doesn't matter."

I sent her a look of disapproval, "Yes, it does. What was your argument about?"

"He started chatting about the future… nothing major like marriage or babies… but you know, just plans. But I was like, well how does he expect us to go anywhere when he's always working away. Even if we moved in tomorrow, nothing would change. He still wouldn't have the time to see me as often as we'd like. Then I said something stupid about one of his ex-girlfriends because she's been trying to call him again… I made some daft insinuations, which I knew weren't true, but I was pissed off. You know how I get."

"All too well." I offered.

Octavia sighed, "So… I stormed off and he went to his friend's. But he's heading off to Dublin in a few days for a conference… Dublin! So, I can't look at him right now and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to look at me either."

I listened, sipping at my tea before I passed her the packet of cookies, "Well, I give it half an hour at the most before he comes over with flowers."

"He won't." She muttered, "Not after what I said."

"What did you say?" I pressed.

She sent me a guilty look as she dipped her cookie into her tea, "I said he probably didn't even have a conference in Dublin and that he was taking her to a different continent to fuck her behind my back…"

"He knows you didn't mean it." I sighed, "You always say stupid stuff you don't mean."

"You are a dirty whore though. I meant that." She smirked, tossing the packet back to me.

"And I will wipe my diseases all over your face." I returned, " _I_ meant that too."

She grimaced briefly, a quiet grumble leaving her mouth, "I need to stop acting out or I'm going to lose him."

I was already shaking my head, "O, he knows you. It's just a part of who you are. You're fierce, and I think underneath it all, he loves you for it."

"Maybe. I'm just scared that one of these days he's going to have had enough of me."

"Not going to happen." I finished off my tea and exhaled softly.

Octavia was silent for a moment before she looked back to me, one eyebrow raised, "Also… cock-sucking peasant?"

"It was the first thing that popped into my head…" I countered, and we both burst into fits of laughter.

…

The tenderness of my ribs woke me the next morning.

There was no way I was going into the hospital. I wouldn't have been allowed to anyway; I would have been useless trying to participate in any moving and handling so it was against policy.

 _You managed moving and handling Lexa last night just fine._

I pushed away the thought, well aware I'd made my own cheeks colour.

Once I'd called up the manager and explained what had happened and where he could find the incident report, I pushed back my covers and sat up.

My quilt still smelled of her.

My eyes flickered closed for a moment as I inhaled the sweet, yet enticingly musky scent. Jesus, how was it possible for her to turn me on when she wasn't even here?

The thought irritated me.

I headed into the kitchen to grab some breakfast; I needed to make good use of my time off. That meant instead of studying like I was supposed to, I was going to lounge around idly watching Netflix, or something equally as unproductive.

I spied the roses from Lincoln on the coffee table and rolled my eyes.

I knew I'd called it.

Over the next few days, I did manage to get some studying done. Between avoiding calls from my mother, and ignoring texts from Niylah, I also managed to get hooked on some murder-crime documentary series. It was during this period that I realised I hadn't actually really left the flat except to walk down to the corner shop for essentials such as ice cream, and oranges to prevent scurvy.

"You making breakfast?" Octavia asked, coming into the living area to join me on my fourth day off.

"For me, yes." I told her. It was nice to actually have time to make myself a morning meal that consisted of more than bland granola bars and rushed coffee, "So, piss off."

"Bacon sandwich, please. Thanks." She grinned, flipping on the kettle, "Are you planning on leaving the apartment at any point in your life?"

"I could actually do with driving into the city to–" I cut myself off after tossing some extra bacon in the frying pan, "Shit. My car."

Octavia waited for me to expand.

"It's been at the hospital since last Sunday." I slapped the bacon on some bread and picked it up, turning to face my housemate with my best well-practiced puppy dog eyes, "O…" I began, handing the plate over to her.

She took said meal from my hands, realising I was still looking at her intently.

"Oh, my god. What?" She muttered, picking up the sandwich.

"You know since I've just been slaving away at the cooker making you the most delicious breakfast…" I trailed away, letting her form her own conclusion.

Her eyes suddenly narrowing mid-bite, "Oh, for fuck's sake, Griffin. You need a lift to the hospital, don't you?"

I flipped my own bacon onto the bread, "I would be eternally and forever grateful."

She swallowed her current mouthful and exhaled moodily, "Since this bacon sandwich is _so_ goddamn good, fine. By the way, eternally and forever mean the same thing, you dramatic bastard."

I laughed softly, "You're my favourite."

"I know."

…

…

Gustus still hadn't woken up.

It was a bad sign.

The longer he took to wake up, the harder it was going to be for him to keep breathing.

Indra had relieved me from pacing up and down his bedside, instructing me to get some air.

I'd had word of who'd organised the attack. I wasn't surprised when I overheard. I'd been suspecting something from Nia in the back of my head for a long time.

She owed me a lot of favours. She was the co-owner of Nation Casino; I'd had my sights on that organisation a while ago with the intention of taking it over once she'd got herself into severe debt, but I'd stopped my dealings with Nia because I didn't like the way she worked. The best way of describing her was as a snake; a poisonous viper who would constrict her own son if she got a bit of money out of it. Now she was after my clubs… my money. My life.

The air was crisp, the weather taking a turn as we approached autumn. But I was still overheating.

I was staring at nothing in particular as I strode the length of the parking lot.

But yet, despite it all, my mind had flitted between the possibility of getting attacked, and the blonde-haired junior doctor. Why was I still thinking about her?

Sure, I wanted her all over again regardless of everything that was happening.

But I had never been this fixated on just one girl before.

She wasn't like my usual dalliances.

She was a doctor for a start. Not just some unintellectual clubber with (remarkable) tits and an ass.

Her presence gave me something else to focus on, and she appeased my instinctual desires as though it was merely second nature to her.

"Slow down, you're making me tired."

The voice knocked the wind right out of my chest.

I stopped pacing and turned, seeing her leaning against the wall with a cigarette between her lips; she wasn't in her usual work attire. Instead, she was navy skinny jeans and a deliciously well-fitted jumper.

"Clarke…" I murmured automatically, my deprived eyes hungrily grazing over her features.

She offered me a small smile, exhaling a cloud of smoke in front of her face.

"Are you working?" I asked, trying to make sense of the scene before me.

She shook her head, "I'm not allowed until my ribs heal. I left my car here last Sunday. Octavia dropped me off."

I said nothing, uncertain how else to proceed with the conversation.

"You look awful." She told me bluntly, "Obviously still irresistible, but awful."

I didn't have the chance to decide whether to be insulted or complimented by her casual comment before she continued, "When was the last time you slept? Or ate something?"

This was the medic speaking. I knew because she spoke to me the way she might to a patient. It riled me a little that she had the natural gift of perception and that she was so unafraid of using it.

"I don't know." I answered finally, looking away from her.

She said nothing as she took another drag of her cigarette.

Eventually, she pushed back from the wall, "You'll make yourself ill, you know." I knew she wasn't saying it to be patronising. She was right.

I had neglected food due to the stress, and even though I was tired, I couldn't sleep. Not restfully, anyway.

"Hey…" Clarke's voice was softer this time, closing the distance between us with four steps, "Lexa, you need to keep your strength up."

I finally shifted my eyes to hers, "I'm fine."

"You can't bullshit a bullshitter." She raised an eyebrow at me challengingly, "I need you to keep your strength up, anyway."

 _How do you figure that, Doctor Griffin?_

As though I'd spoken my thoughts aloud, she leaned her face forwards just slightly, "How do you expect to be able to handle the exchange of screaming orgasms otherwise?"

"I wasn't aware there would be another exchange." I was being difficult on purpose. But she saw straight through my front.

"You don't want another?" Clarke tilted her head to one side, pressing the cigarette back to her lips, "That's fine. I guess I'll just have to find myself some other austere club-owner."

The natural beast within me growled at her words and I took a step forwards, reinstating my charge, "The other club-owners wouldn't know how to handle you."

"There she is." Clarke's lips curved into a provocative smirk, "I knew the real you was in there somewhere."

"Stop looking at me like that, Clarke." I solicited, trying not to recognise how quickly she'd restored my flare.

"Or what?" Her wicked smile widened.

Without giving her the chance to blink let alone finish off her smoke, I plucked the cigarette from her mouth and tossed it to the floor. My hands found her hips and I pulled her towards me, moving my lips to brush hers tantalisingly slow and running my tongue gently across hers. Part of me liked the taste of the menthol tobacco on her kiss. Maybe it was because I was so used to the scent of smoke from spending a lot of time at clubs. Or maybe it was Clarke who'd converted me to it.

Her fingers reflexively curled around my arms, pulling me that inch closer to her, "I'm going to have to punish you for wasting my cigarette." She chastised into the kiss, tightening her hold on me.

The way she'd said it was too full of promise to overlook.

"You're certain it was a waste?" I asked, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze.

"No. The alternative was more satisfying. But I like the idea of punishing you anyway."

Her words clawed over my skin, the familiar knots in my stomach gripping at my muscles.

 _I like the idea of you punishing me too._

"And when are you planning on punishing me?" I whispered, tugging at her lower lip with my teeth.

She let me claim her mouth for a moment longer before she pulled away, "Come over. Tonight." She purred, "On one condition."

I waited.

At present, there could have been ten conditions and I would have agreed to all of them.

"Go home. Eat something. Get some sleep." She said simply, "Then I'll give you what you want."

"And your ribs?" I questioned, my fingers still holding onto her hips.

 _I don't want to hurt you_.

"I guess you'll just have to fuck me slowly."

I wanted to do it now.

She knew I did.

That was why she was looking at me the way she was.

She wanted me too.

I nodded, once.

Clarke appeared satisfied with my compliance and before she pivoted on her heel to head back to her car, glancing over her shoulder for long enough to say, "You'd better hold up your end of the bargain, Lexa. I will know if you don't."

I didn't doubt it.


End file.
